Lyrium's Hold
by TaraF
Summary: With Danarius gone, Fenris' markings become unstable. Damian Hawke is determined to save the man he loves, but that is not as easy as he had hoped. Their travel to the Tevinter Imperium and what Hawke is willing to do place pressure on their relationship. Will both Fenris and the love between them survive? This is a sequel of Magic's Touch, but can be read separately.
1. Chapter 1

A small group went aboard a small boat that was docked at the Gallows. Fenris' eyes went over the tired faces. Everyone was exhausted after the many long and brutal fights they had fought, and nobody had come out of it unscathed. Isabela had a couple of ugly cuts on her bare arms, Aveline was bleeding from a shallow head wound, Varric was limping because an arrow had hit him in his left foot, Merrill looked pale after abundant use of blood magic but seemed otherwise unharmed, and one of Carver Hawke's eyes was swollen so much that he could no longer peek through the eyelids. Fenris' body was aching all over from the burns, the attempts of blood magic to let his blood boil within his veins, and the blows from blades, maces and daggers, but he paid no attention to it. The relief that they had made it out alive was stronger than the complaints of his tormented nerves. Rebelling against the entire Templar Order... surely even for Damian Hawke that must be the limit. Perhaps the Champion of Kirkwall could retire now that he had done the most insane thing possible.

"Who needs healing?"

Fenris looked up from his wooden bench. His stomach tightened at the sight of Hawke standing tall in the boat. His braid had not survived the chaos of the battle, so his hair spilled in a disheveled mess over his shoulders. His robes were torn and burned at some places. Fenris felt his mouth curl in amusement. Hawke hated it when his robes were damaged beyond repair, something that - considering how Hawke tended to spend his time - happened regularly. But except for the state of his hair and clothing, Hawke appeared to be alright. He was alive. That was all that mattered to Fenris. When they plunged themselves in the abyss of outright war with the templars, he had almost been certain they would not make it out alive. Yet here they all were, alive and well. _Well... not all..._ Mabs, Hawke's mabari, had not survived the last battle. Meredith had pierced the hound while everyone was busy taking down the statues that had magically come to life. And both an archer and a possessed mage were missing from their group.

"It can wait, Hawke," Aveline said. "Nobody is severely wounded."

"But you're bleeding," Hawke objected. Fenris noticed Hawke was swaying on his legs. It could be due to the movements of the boat on the waves of the sea, but Hawke's coordination did not match those.

"Sit down, Hawke. You'll rock the boat," Isabela pointed out. Even on this tiny thing she considered herself the captain.

"But..."

"You're drained, Hawke. I can see it. How do you want to cast a spell?" Merrill added.

"Hawke, s_it_." Orders from the Captain of the guard. With a grumble Hawke took his place between Carver and Fenris. For a moment Hawke placed his hand on Fenris' arm. Though the gesture itself was subtle, Fenris was fairly certain the others could see his markings light up in the night. Not that he minded. He had had worse things to worry about.

"You don't look well," he said softly to Hawke.

Hawke waved his concern away. "I'm just tired, like Merrill said. It's been a long day. My magic will recover within a few hours."

"So..." Varric started. "What are we going to do now?"

All eyes turned to Hawke, who sighed at that. "We need to get away from Kirkwall, that's for sure. But I don't know where we should go. Ferelden would be the obvious choice, but if the templars decide to hunt me... I think Cullen will let us go, but Sister Nightingale said the Divine is keeping a close eye on Kirkwall. She'll take action soon enough, and that means she will order the templars to arrest us. And then Ferelden is the first place they'll look for me."

Merrill blinked in surprise. "Aren't you friends with the king of Ferelden? He was really nice to you. I'm sure he will help you when you go back."

Hawke gave her a tired smile. "I don't think I can call myself a friend of the king. Those few minutes in the Keep was the only time I've met him. And somehow I doubt he'll be pleased to see me again after what happened here today." He sighed again. "I just want to go somewhere without crazy people who suddenly decide to... to blow up things and kill everyone in their sight. Maybe a beach. One that's not the Wounded Coast."

"I can recommend a few if you like." Isabela winked.

"Please do."

"If I had my ship, we could have gone anywhere," she added, a little bitter.

"Yeah, and then we could have joined Castillion in the slave trade! I'm sure we would have made excellent partners," Hawke said sarcastically.

"Hey, that's not fair!"

"I don't regret killing that ruthless slaver. I don't make deals with that kind of people." Hawke glanced at Fenris from the corner of his eye. "Anyway, maybe I can purchase a ship... It's the fastest way to get out of Kirkwall. Then we'll see where we're going. Not that you all have to come with me. I mean, you can all decide for yourself. You didn't ask to become fugitives, with the Chantry hunting you..."

"I think everyone has made their choice when they joined you in battle," Aveline replied.

Merrill nodded enthusiastically. "You did the right thing, Hawke. We won't abandon you."

Hawke rubbed his temples. "I'm not so sure. But thanks. All of you."

It was not long before they reached the docks. It was decided everyone would quickly pack their belongings and then meet back there to try to get a ship.

When the others had left, Carver and Damian Hawke were still standing awkwardly in front of each other. Fenris waited for Hawke a few feet away to give the brothers some privacy. However, with the chaos in the city greatly reduced now that most rogue mages, abominations, demons and blood mages had been taken care of, their voices travelled far in the cool night air.

"I had not expected to see you again so soon," Hawke eventually said. "And definitely not in a war to defend mages."

Carver shrugged. "I was not here for the mages," he said brusquely. "At least not for those in the Circle."

"I know. It is good to have you on my side, Carver. I'm glad that's still the case."

Carver now looked even more awkward. Apparently he did not know what else to say to his rivaled brother.

"Are you coming with us?" Hawke asked.

"No." Carver shook his head. "A small group of Wardens is waiting for me outside the city. We happened to be in the area when the explosion hit." He smiled mockingly. "Somehow I knew you were involved."

Hawke seemed concerned. "Don't you think it's better to get out of the Free Marches now?"

"I'm a Warden. Wardens stand outside the law. Besides, you were the leader in the whole thing. I doubt people will remember my part in the battle. That's how it always goes, after all."

For once, he did not sound begrudging when he said this. Carver appeared more... at peace. Of course that could be accounted to the fact that his older brother was left with the responsibility for what had happened today, while he could walk away, back to the Grey Wardens.

"I... guess I won't see you in a while then."

"I guess. Have you decided where you're going? Will you go back to Ferelden?"

"I honestly don't know yet. I'll write you once things have calmed down a bit."

"Okay... Goodbye then."

Hawke's teeth flickered in the dark as he grinned. "Another awkward goodbye within a few weeks? Come on, Carver. I don't know when I will see you again."

Hawke spread out his arms. Carver looked at the open invitation with strong suspicion, but then he yielded and the two brothers embraced each other.

"Would you believe me if I said that I miss you? Sometimes, that is."

Fenris heard Hawke laugh, muffled against Carver's armor. "I love you, you secret softie. I will miss you too."

After a few more seconds Carver began to carefully pull himself away. "I have to go."

Hawke nodded. "Goodbye." He watched his brother disappear around the corner. Fenris came closer once the sound of Carver's footsteps had died away. Once again he was uncertain how to act, what to say. So much had happened today, and so much was still to happen. It was difficult enough to sort out for himself how he felt about everything.

Hawke looked around, searching. "Where's..." he started. "Oh. Right. Never mind." He began to walk. Fenris followed.

"Were you... looking for Mabs?"

He could barely see Hawke nodding. "For a moment I forgot... Oh, _fuck_, I hate this day." Hawke's step length and frequency increased. It was more running than walking what they were doing now.

Fenris knew a mabari could not be compared to someone's poodle. They were intelligent hounds, and extremely loyal to the person they chose as their master. A mabari hound was a true companion. Plus Mabs was part of Hawke's old life... when he still had a complete family and lived in some quiet town, without blood mages, betrayal, fighting and constant death. Another part of that life lost. Not much was left of it. Only a younger brother, and the memories Hawke carried with him. Ghosts, looking over his shoulder.

They went to Hawke's estate, both lost in their own thoughts.

"Why didn't you kill him?" Fenris asked while Hawke opened the door.

"Do we have to talk about this now?"

"He betrayed you. He used you to destroy the Chantry. Surely your friendship does not extend that far."

With a deep sigh Hawke turned to look at Fenris. "You're right," he whispered. "I did not spare him out of friendship."

"Why then? He deserved his fate. He is an abomination and a terrorist. The man even wanted to die!"

"Carver."

When Fenris frowned, not understanding, Hawke went on: "Thanks to Anders Carver is still alive. If he had not been with us in the Deep Roads, my brother would have died. The taint would have destroyed him. I would have been forced to watch him die, unable to help him, unable to heal him. Because of Anders we managed to find the Grey Wardens and convince them to let Carver join them. Thanks to Anders I did not have to return home to tell Mother I had let my other sibling die as well. Anders saved me from another failure. And because of that, I couldn't kill him. I owed him the life of my brother. If Sebastian wanted to kill Anders, I wouldn't have stopped him. But it's not fair to ask it of me. I can't kill the person who gave my brother a chance to survive. I can't. So I didn't. Now we're even. I have no kindness left for Anders. I never want to see him again. I just hope he won't hurt anyone..."

_You mean anyone else. He already killed the Grand Cleric and all the priests and sisters. Why would he stop now if Hawke has given him the chance to continue to fight for his cursed cause?_

Fenris did not reveal his thoughts to Hawke. It would not help to do so. All these years he had never understood why Hawke still put up with the abomination's company, why he refused to take action even though it became more and more clear that the man had turned into a monster. Now he finally knew why. He should have known it had something to do with Hawke's family. The weight of the relatives he had lost bore heavily on Hawke's conscience, he knew that. But with Carver far away and Hawke rarely speaking of his brother, Fenris tended to forget about the other Hawke. Perhaps there was a little more truth to the junior Hawke's complaints than Fenris had thought.

Hawke went up the stairs to his bedroom, quickly opened the doors of the wardrobe and started pulling random pieces of clothing out of it.

"Wouldn't it be wiser for you to purchase some new clothing?" Fenris suggested.

Hawke looked over his shoulder. "Why?"

"In robes everyone can spot you as a mage from a mile away."

"Oh, right. I had gotten so used to wearing them that I hadn't considered... But it's back to being on the run again. Well, I also can't wear this anymore, so I'll get changed anyway for now and buy something else later." With that Hawke pulled his ruined robes over his head.

"On the run again?" Fenris repeated. "I can see how that applies to me, but when have you been on the run? You mean with the Blight?"

Hawke slowly shook his head while he tried to decide what he would put on. "I'm an apostate, Fenris. Father was an apostate, and my little sister was one too. Ferelden is not Tevinter. You think we never had to move to escape the templars?"

"Oh. Of course." During the years he had spent with Hawke, he never had made much of a secret of his magical abilities. And over time Hawke had become so powerful that magic simply radiated from him. When Fenris had walked into Danarius' trap, he had had no idea that his former master was hiding upstairs. With Hawke next to him, even the Tevinter magister's presence had been overshadowed. All in all it seemed so obvious to him that Hawke was a mage, that he had difficulty imagining Hawke effectively hiding it from people.

Hawke had finally picked a robe to put on. Once dressed he bent over the bed and lifted the mattress. When he stood straight again he was holding a large purse that was jingling with coin. Fenris raised an eyebrow at him.

"Really?"

Hawke gave an apologizing grin in return. "I'm afraid I'm not always that original." His smile faded. "Don't you want to pack some things?"

Fenris shrugged. "What should I take? I have nothing of value. All I need I have on me."

"Are you mad?"

"At whom?"

"Me of course, you dork. For having to flee Kirkwall now that you're finally free. You have a home here."

Fenris could not hold back a barking laugh. "A home? Danarius' old mansion? It was a roof over my head, but I cannot say I will miss the place. I could have left it anytime without looking back." He paused for a moment. "What about you? I imagine you find it harder to leave. I remember you saying Kirkwall is your home now."

Hawke scratched his beard. "Huh, when did I say that?"

Fenris' eyes darted from one corner of the room to the other before they returned to Hawke's face. That he remembered something Hawke had told him so long ago and that Hawke himself had already forgotten... it felt like he had gotten caught on something. Caught on caring. Strange how long it took to get used to no longer having to hide his feelings and force them away. "I think it was... when you first visited me."

Hawke's face lit up when he remembered. "Ah, yes. You got angry when I said that and accused me of my sister's death meaning nothing to me."

"I... I should not have said that, back then. It was just..."

"Don't worry," Hawke said friendly. "It was a long time ago. And to answer your question: actually Kirkwall has no more been a home to me than Lothering has." He sat down on the edge of his bed. "Like I said, our family mostly consisted of apostates. We never knew how long we could stay in the next place. There was always the chance we would be discovered... so it was better not to get attached to a town and a house. I remember one time... it was just me, Father and Mother then. Mother was pregnant with the twins. We lived in a quiet town, as usual, and my parents were planning to stay until the babies were born. I was... six or seven then." Fenris took place next to Hawke to listen to his story. Hawke did not often speak of his youth, of his time before Kirkwall, when he still was part of a family. Just like Fenris did not speak much of his own past, as Danarius' slave. With Fenris next to him, Hawke continued: "Father had forbidden me to talk to the other children as long as I had no full control over my magic. It takes years of practice to hold it in at times your emotions overwhelm you. So the only people I knew were my parents. I tended to stay inside, to study and to avoid contact with others so that I wouldn't betray us. But one day it was warm and sunny, and I went outside and sat in front of our house to read while Mother was at the market and Father at work. Actually, I think I was reading the book I let you practice with during your first reading lesson. Anyway, my attention was on the book, and I didn't notice a group of children approaching. I was a an awkward kid at the time, not used to other people, pale and a bit chubby of always being inside..." Hawke laughed softly. "Glad that's changed. So, odd little boy none of them had ever seen before: that sparked interest. I don't think they meant any harm in the beginning; they were just curious. But I was surprised by their presence and knew I should not talk to others, so I did not respond when they asked my name. Instead I tried to hide behind my book. The other children then decided I was weird and wanted to get a reaction from me. One of them picked up some things and started throwing them at me: twigs, small stones, hands of dirt. At first I tried to ignore that too, but others joined in and they began to throw harder. Eventually I got sick of it, and... I snapped."

"What did you do?" Fenris asked, curiosity and a bit of pity for this young, lonely Hawke he knew nothing about mixing in his stomach.

"I... uh... I froze the leader of the group. Turned him into a huge ice cube. He could not even wiggle a finger. Very impressive actually; it took me months to get that spell right again after that. But the rest of town was not pleased. The children fled from me, screaming loudly that there was a witch in their midst." Hawke grumbled at that offending title. "We immediately had to flee. Luckily the village was so small there was no Chantry and thus no templars, so it took the villagers some time to get to the nearest place with representatives of the Order. Still, we had no time to bring anything with us and had to run into the woods and hide underneath bushes while they chased us. My eight months pregnant mother was exhausted and wept in distress and misery. Father was furious and deeply disappointed. It was then that I vowed I would never make a mistake like that again. Even when I could easily control my magic, I kept my distance from other people. And when Mother and Father said they were planning to stay in Lothering for good, I did not truly believe it. Something could always go wrong. One of us could make a mistake. Carver could get drunk in the local tavern and in his foul mood complain to one of the pretty girls about his apostate ass of a brother. Bethany could decide to heal someone who was in pain, after which that person would alarm the templars... Even when a few years had passed, I always took into account the next day could be the day we had to leave. And in some way I was right... we had to flee eventually. But from the darkspawn, not the templars."

Hawke stared at his hands. Silence filled the air between them. After he had thought about Hawke's words, Fenris spoke. "That doesn't sound like the man I know. You did not seem to keep your distance from me or the other people you were with... And you certainly did not try very hard to hide your magic."

Hawke chuckled. "True. I've... changed. I think it happened after Father died and I was supposed to lead the family. For some reason I was a little bit less afraid. And then I lost Bethany... while we were on our way to a city filled with templars. I thought I would be extra careful then. In Kirkwall I did try, especially during the first year. But Gamlen had already told people that I'm a mage to get them to hire me so that I could pay off his debt... and gradually I got more in touch with people. The jobs for Athenril required connections, and I realized I liked interacting with others. I enjoyed not being locked up in my own home, which is basically a disappointing alternative for the Circle. And then I had to fund a Deep Roads expedition to earn enough coin to get us out of Gamlen's hovel. And for some crazy reason I ended up as the leader of a group of extraordinary people. So maybe in that regard Kirkwall has been more of a home to me than Lothering. But living here has cost me too much... I've lost my sister, indirectly my brother, and eventually my mother." Hawke turned his head to the side, to Fenris. "At least I met the most extraordinary person too."

"Yes, I imagine you haven't met many people with lyrium in their skin," Fenris replied dryly.

Hawke snorted, effectively breaking the sense of loss and sadness that threatened to settle between them. "Indeed I haven't." He got up. "We should probably go. The others will be waiting."

When they passed the closed door of the room that used to be Leandra's bedroom, Hawke halted. Slowly he raised a hand and placed it against the wood. Then he pressed his forehead against it. "Farewell, Mother," he whispered, his eyes closed. Fenris looked away. This was Hawke's way to say goodbye to the place that had been his home for three years, despite what he might say. He expected Hawke would continue to stand like that for some time, but after a few seconds Hawke's eyes already went open and he ran off the stairs as if he had not stopped on his way down to caress a door at all.

Downstairs Hawke quickly shot into the library. He returned with a book in his hand, which he put in a linen back he hoisted over his shoulder, ignoring the quizzical look Fenris gave him.

"Bodahn? Orana?"

As if they were summoned demons, both the dwarf and the elf hastened to meet their employer. Sandal came to see what was going on as well.

"Yes, messere?"

"Yes, master?"

"Enchantment!"

Hawke spoke to Orana first. "Orana, I have to leave and I'm afraid I won't come back. You have been an excellent servant, but you'll have to find a new place to work. Here," he pressed a few gold pieces in her frail hands. "This should be enough. I advise you - if you can - to go to another city. It doesn't have to be far away. But get out of Kirkwall if that's possible. I don't think the templars will question you about me, but I can't be sure and I don't want you to get hurt."

Orana blinked rapidly. She obviously did not completely understand what was going on. "Have I displeased you, master?"

Fenris clenched his fists. How often had he not spoken similar words? To hear it directed at Hawke was... sickening. He knew Orana was not Hawke's slave, that he royally paid her every month, that he had tried to convince her to stop calling him master, but to hear it anyway... it was not something he could get used to.

"No, no, of course not. Like I said, you have been an excellent servant. But unfortunately I have to leave. Now. And you can't go with me. So will you promise me to take care of yourself? _Don't_ work for someone if they don't pay you. You're a free woman. You can decide over your own life."

She bowed for him. "I promise. Thank you. You have been the best master I could wish for."

Hawke smiled at her, took her hand for a moment and squeezed it before he turned to Bodahn.

"Bodahn, good man. It's been an honor to have had you as my servant. Never have I heard a complaint about all the bloody footprints you had to clean..."

Bodahn chuckled and wiped away a tear at the same time. The rest of Hawke's speech did not reach Fenris' ears. He was distracted by Sandal, who was blatantly staring at him with his round, light blue eyes. He could almost _feel_ the dwarf's gaze travel over the markings visible on his neck, arms and feet. While Hawke paid Bodahn for his services and shook hands with him, Sandal shuffled closer to Fenris, his eyes not blinking and constantly focused on different areas covered with markings. Fenris tried to hide his unease, but that got more difficult as the dwarf came closer and closer. This fascination with the lyrium in his body he had seen often enough, and he did not appreciate it.

Once Sandal was only a few inches away, the dwarf surprised him by abruptly pressing a broad thumb against one of the many lines on his left arm.

"Enchantment!"

The sensation of Sandal's touch was something he had never experienced before. The dwarf clearly had no magic, and yet a mysterious tingle spread through the markings. It was not the touch of a mage, nor that of an ordinary person. Fenris jumped back to create a distance between himself and Sandal.

"I am not an enchantment," he growled, holding his hand over the spot Sandal had touched. It felt irritated, almost like an insect had stung him.

The simple dwarf looked confused. "Enchantment?"

They had drawn the attention of Hawke and Bodahn.

"I hope he is not bothering you, serah!" Bodahn exclaimed.

Hawke looked strangely interested. "Did he just call you an enchantment?" he asked, his eyes drifting over the markings on the arm Fenris was holding.

"He calls everything an enchantment," Fenris snapped back. "Don't you think we should leave?"

"Yes..." Hawke said slowly, as if his thoughts were suddenly somewhere else. "Yes, we have to go."

With a last farewell to Bodahn, Orana and Sandal, Hawke and Fenris left the estate. Fenris noticed that Hawke did not look back once, like an experienced fugitive. He wondered if Hawke truly had so easily closed off the part of his life he had spent in Kirkwall, the city in which they apparently both had found their freedom.


	2. Chapter 2

It turned out they were not the only people planning to leave the city. Once Hawke and Fenris returned to the docks, a group had gathered, despite it being very early in the morning, a time peaceful citizens should be asleep in their own house. The second rebellion in their streets had awoken the peasants from their slumber, and apparently some had decided that a city where angry Qunari, blood mages, demons and abominations could roam the street was not a place they wanted to live. With the Templar Order and the City Guard greatly reduced in numbers, Fenris could not blame them. It might have been different if Hawke had chosen the side of the templars. The Right of Annulment would have been completed, with no possible danger - in the form of unstable mages - left. Instead, Hawke had shifted the balance the templars had maintained, and what would happen now was impossible to predict. He could only hope Kirkwall was not the beginning of a new Tevinter.

Merrill, Varric, Isabela, Aveline and Donnic were already waiting for them, a bit away from the crowd in an alley.

"What's going on?" Hawke asked. "Do all these people want to take a ship?"

"They are scared after another war next to their houses," Aveline replied. "I suspect this is only a small part of the group that will leave Kirkwall after today."

Hawke let his eyes go over the people pushing each other away to get to talk to the captain of one of the ships docked in the harbor. Some were holding a child by the hand, or even had a baby or toddler in their arms or on their back.

"This reminds me of the Blight," Hawke said softly. "I have stood in a panicked crowd like this before."

"This is not the same, fortunately," Aveline said. "Nothing compares to the horror that is the Blight. I don't think it will be difficult to book passage yet. Or do you really want to purchase a ship?"

Hawke considered for a moment. "I think it's better if we draw as little attention to ourselves as possible. We will be more difficult to trace if we disappear into the crowd of refugees."

"Excellent thinking. Only one problem," Varric remarked. "Everybody knows your face. You're the Champion. If you go talking to a captain, people are bound to recognize you. And then they want autographs and a hug. Or hit you on the head for fighting against the templars."

Hawke pulled the cloak he wore over his robes over his head. "You're right. One of you will have to arrange passage for all of us." He looked at Fenris and grinned. "I think Fenris here is also likely to get recognized. Same goes for Varric. Merrill will also draw attention with her Dalish tattoos. Aveline is known as Captain of the Guard. If she is seen leaving Kirkwall in the middle of the night it will cause even more panic... Why don't I have normal friends?"

"Like attracts like, it seems," Fenris mumbled. Hawke heard, judged by his snicker.

"I believe I will jump out the least," Donnic said. "I am... was just a regular guard. Few will know I'm married to the Guard Captain."

Hawke nodded and gave Donnic a hand full of coin. "This should be enough for all of us. Ask explicitly for private quarters. Getting on board without being noticed will be for nothing if we are being piled up with other refugees. We need privacy."

"Does it matter where the ship is going?" Donnic looked from his wife to Hawke, not sure who he was taking orders from in this case.

"For now, it doesn't," Hawke decided. "We can specify our destination later. Now we just need to get out of this city."

"Does that mean I still don't get a ship?" Isabela pouted while Donnic disappeared into the crowd in search of the nearest captain willing to take them.

Hawke gave her a strict look. "It was not going to be "your" ship if I bought one anyway. Unless you killed me and took my ship... but I've heard that's crude and amateurish."

"Ugh, you're starting to sound like Fenris, Hawke."

"If I buy a ship, you will be captain, don't worry about that. I couldn't tell the front from the back of such a thing. And _maybe_ you can get it when I've reached my destination, hmm?"

Isabela beamed at him. "Now that's more like the Hawke I love!"

"But no promises!" Hawke hastened to add. "I can't guarantee anything at the moment. Let's get away first."

"Yes, yes, you've said that enough already," Isabela waved his concern away. "We'll be fine, I'm sure."

"What a relief," Hawke muttered while turning away from the group to look at the gathered crowd.

They had to wait a long time before Donnic returned. While they waited it started raining softly. A calm, steady drizzle that soaked everybody thoroughly despite the small drops. At least it provided a good excuse to hide in their cloaks. When it was raining people were less observant and tended to look at the ground, Fenris knew from experience. In combination with the darkness of night, they had a good chance to remain unnoticed.

When Donnic finally came back, he had succeeded in arranging passage for them all. "But the captain won't sail till dawn," he informed them. "So we'll have to wait a few more hours. We do have permission to board the ship already."

"Good. One question: where are we going?" Varric inquired.

"Ferelden. The ship sails to Amaranthine."

So Hawke would return to his homeland after all. In the dark Fenris could not see his reaction, but he seemed impassive about it. Fenris himself was slightly curious about this country he had never been before. The Fereldans were clearly a strong people, having crushed a Blight in less than a year, and with someone like Hawke originating from them... Any place that was not Tevinter was fine with him though.

"Well, if everyone has what they need, I suggest we get on board and conquer our cabins, in case the captain gets the idea to put as many persons as he can in it after all."With that, Hawke took his staff from his back and used it as a cane, starting to limp in the direction of the docked ships.

"Has he hurt his leg?" Merrill asked Fenris.

Fenris growled at the amount of ignorance she managed to display and shook his head. He did not answer her, choosing to follow Hawke instead. They carefully went around the crowd as much as possible - Donnic showed the way -, until they only had to walk in a straight line to their ship. Fenris was about to cross the gangway when Aveline pulled at his cloak to stop him.

"Fenris, is Hawke alright?"

Why she insisted on asking such a question at a time like this, he had no idea. Once they were settled she could ask Hawke himself how he was feeling. Fenris did not possess a device that accurately measured Hawke's mood. But knowing Aveline she would not let him move before he had given an answer.

"I suppose he is well enough."

"I know it's a heavy blow for him what happened today... Anders blowing up the Chantry, Sebastian's threat, Orsino going insane and turning into a... a monster, Meredith going over the edge right after him... and now he has to flee the city that was his new home. It can't be easy for him."

"Can't this wait?" Fenris said through gritted teeth. "We are drawing attention to ourselves."

"Just... keep an eye on him, okay?"

"Hawke is a strong man. He will be fine."

It was too dark to see, but Fenris could imagine Aveline's solemn gaze as if he saw it in broad daylight. "Even the strongest can't bear an infinite amount of misfortune," was her reply.

* * *

They had two cabins for themselves on the ship. Hawke, Fenris and Isabela slept in the first, Donnic, Aveline, Merrill and Varric in the second. While they waited for the ship to depart they gathered in one cabin to deliberate on their plans.

"I want to try to purchase a ship in Amaranthine," Hawke said. "It's a large port city, so that should be possible. Then sail to different places in Ferelden, Antiva, Rivain... anywhere really. That should make it impossible for the Chantry to follow our trail. I'm thinking of two months continuously moving before we... try to settle somewhere. But if someone has an alternative idea, feel free to say so."

"It's still more difficult to disappear with a ship than when we simply travel into the hills," Fenris argued. "Ships are registered when they dock, so they are easy to track."

"True, but if we go to random places, it won't help them much to know when we've been somewhere."

"They will guard every port city as soon as they realize we travel by ship."

"But it will take time before they find that out."

Varric snickered. "Most people on board of this ship will probably recognize that head of yours when they see it."

Hawke nodded. "I'm planning to do something about that, though."

"What, putting a bag over your head?" Isabela joked.

"I've considered that, but no. I think shaving my beard can do the trick too. At least it should make a real difference."

"I like your beard, Hawke. It reminds me of a squirrel."

"Err... I'm not sure that comparison makes me want to keep it, Merrill. Perhaps it's better to get rid of it if it looks like I have a squirrel on my face."

Isabela and Varric both stared Hawke's face, their imagination clearly running on full power in an attempt to picture him without beard. Fenris tried it too, but he could not imagine Hawke without his beard as much as he could not picture him without his long auburn hair, his piercing blue eyes, the proud determination in his posture.

"Welcome to the true gentlemen's club," Varric said enthusiastically. "Beards are very overrated anyway. Especially by dwarves. My ancestors are as stubborn as the stone they surround themselves with."

"Right. But, everyone agrees with the current plan?"

Fenris shrugged. "It seems a bit of gamble to me to think it will take them months to figure out we travel by ship."

"I'll make sure we remain informed of what's going on," Varric reassured him. "We can always change strategies when needed."

"Very well."

Aveline got up from her crouched pose. "I suggest everyone tries to get some sleep. It's been a long day."

Hawke, Fenris and Isabela went to the other cabin. Despite her history of many nights spent in numerous ways that did not include sleeping, Isabela could not suppress a yawn, and without much comment she sought up her bed. Hawke took his knife from one of his pockets, apparently set on immediately shaving off his beard.

"I haven't done this in years," he said to Fenris, speaking softly not to disturb Isabela, whose eyes were already closed. He smirked. "I don't suppose I can ask you for advice."

Fenris smiled back. "I'm afraid not. You could go to Varric."

"You letting your beard grow as a disguise won't work then?" Hawke cocked his head.

"What is it?" Fenris asked, not pleased with the look Hawke gave him.

"Nothing. Just imagining how you would look with bright red hair, like your sister."

Fenris glowered at Hawke. "Forget it." He would rather forget everything that had to do with Varania. She was not his sister. Every bond they might have shared was destroyed when she chose to aid Danarius, when she lured him into his master's trap. She would have watched him being chained and dragged back to Tevinter, back to slavery. Family would not do that. As far as Fenris was concerned, they shared nothing. That he had spared her life on Hawke's request did not change anything. Sometimes he regretted that he had let her walk away unharmed. One time he had even dreamed about killing her. He had held one arm against her throat, pushing her against the wall, and with the other hand he had crushed her heart. And it had felt good. Blurred by the dream, of course. But in his waking hours he still remained unsure whether it had been the right thing to do to let her live. Hadriana and Danarius had paid for what they had done to him. The slavers sent after him had paid for following their orders. Only Varania was alive, while she had committed a crime that equaled those of his former _owner_.

_What's done is done_. Pining over this past decision would do him no good. Varania was out of his reach now, and he would never see her again. He would do his best to forget her altogether. If Hawke would cooperate and not continuously remind him of her.

Hawke knew him long enough to know it was wisest to back down immediately. Luckily he had a perfect excuse too: "I'm going to shave!"

He found a small mirror in their cabin, took it to the tiny table that was stashed in the room and dropped down on the only chair. With his eyes on the mirror, he made a vague gesture with his free hand. The candle on the table was suddenly burning, while Fenris sensed the subtle shift in the magical aura around him that accompanied Hawke's spell.

Hawke grumbled at the mirror. "I still can't see a damned thing. If I do it like this I will cut myself and bleed to death."

"Don't you need some kind of... soap as well?"

"Hawke turned his head a little to look at Fenris. "Ah, some knowledge of the act of shaving after all."

Fenris pressed his lips together. It was true he had to shave in the past... but obviously not himself. Danarius had not always had a beard. Not that shaving his master's beard was such an awful thing to have to do... especially not compared to the other orders he had executed. But it was one of many small things that had meant Danarius' total ownership over him. Intimate things like helping him get dressed, washing his feet, shaving his beard... Those were the things he now stumbled over. Those things tended to get close and pull him back, back into old memories.

Hawke's smile faded and was replaced by a crinkle in his brow. "Fenris, everything okay?"

It were those little things he had to get out of the way to truly live as a free man. The markings, what he had been used for, killing the people who had tried to help him, all that would always stay with him. He had to give them a place and live with them. But those small things in innocent circumstances were boundaries that had to be overcome. They should not keep the association with slavery.

His face determined, Fenris got up from his bed. "I'll do it," he said. "I can see it better than you when you have to use the mirror. But you need soap."

Hawke leaned back in his chair as Fenris came closer. "Whoa, whoa! You don't know how t-"

"I do know how," Fenris interrupted him. "Now let's get his over with so that we can get some sleep. I'm tired."

Hawke did not look completely convinced, but ceased his protests nonetheless. Fenris felt Hawke's gaze on him while he found a piece of soap in Hawke's bag. He then realized he still had no water, but Hawke stopped him before he could get up from his crouched pose. With the same casual movement he had used to light the candle, Hawke filled a cup on the table with ice. A few seconds later the ice had melted.

From then on it was easy and straightforward. Soap on Hawke's face, then carefully with the sharp edge of the knife over his cheeks and chin. The candle provided scarce light, so he had to bent closely over Hawke to be thorough. Hawke's breath fanned against his cheek, his head back, throat exposed, eyes on Fenris' face. He could see the large arteries pulsating in Hawke's neck. He had never realized this position was so... vulnerable. One slip of the blade and he had cut an artery. He could have killed Danarius so many times, and the possibility had never even occurred to him. One quick cut, and it would have been over before Danarius was aware of what had happened, before he would have had time to do something. Not even enough time for magic. Only now that he was free, and it was Hawke sitting in front of him... He briefly shook his head to change this trail of thought and refocus on what he was supposed to do: shaving Hawke's nice, full, dark red beard.

When he was finished, Hawke ran a hand across his cheek and rubbed his chin. "It feels so weird!" he complained. "It's far too... soft and smooth. And cold! Why is my face cold?"

Fenris hid a yawn behind his hand. "You'll get used to it."

"Bah! I regret it already."

Fenris stripped himself to his smallclothes. He really was tired now. It had been an exhausting day. So much fighting, so much fear. It had taken its toll. So without paying attention to Hawke's discontent mumblings, Fenris lay down and feel asleep shortly after his head touched the pillow.

* * *

A few hours later he was woken up by a soft noise. As he tried to pull his mind away from sleep's embrace, he was not certain what had awakened him. Then he heard it again, or at least he heard something. A tortured moan, soft, but audible. The moan was followed by another one, a little bit louder. Fenris turned his head towards the sound.

"N... no." It came out with a sigh, slow, hesitant, pained. "No, no."

"Hawke?"

No response, except for another sigh. Fenris pushed himself up. Their cabin was still dark, the candle no longer burning. He softly called Hawke again, but got no answer.

"No! No, please!"

Fenris jumped out of bed, yet his bare feet made barely a sound when they hit the floor. Quickly he stalked to Hawke's bed, where he found him turning restlessly, his face broken in grief. A sob broke from Hawke's lips, but still he did not wake up. Fenris hesitated for a few seconds, but then - remembering his own frequent nightmares - stretched out his hand and shook Hawke's shoulder. Hawke woke up almost immediately with a startled sound. His mind still with his dream, it took some time for Hawke to distinguish dream from reality. Slowly, his eyes focused on Fenris, and he calmed.

"Fenris."

Fenris sat down on the edge of Hawke's bed. "I'm here."

"I..." Hawke rubbed his chin, frowned at the unfamiliar feeling of his clean shaven face, remembered why his beard was gone, then finished his sentence. "Bad dream," he mumbled.

"I suspected as much." When Hawke did not say anything else, Fenris asked: "Do you want... can I ask what is was about?"

"Uh... the usual. The people I could not save or killed. Mother asking me why I couldn't save Bethany, Carver blaming me for not saving Mother... Father being disappointed because I nearly got Carver killed too. And..."

"And?"

"You... You were gone. I didn't know where you went. If you had left or... died. I was alone with the people I couldn't save and the bodies of those I killed. Even my dog. I couldn't even keep my bloody dog alive!"

Another situation in which there were no words that could make it better. At least no words Fenris could think of. So he did the only other thing he could do, what he wished someone else would have done with him one of those times he had awakened sweaty and filled with terror: he climbed into Hawke's bed and pressed himself against him. He would drive away the nightmare and replace it with feelings of bliss. And he wanted Hawke. There was something about this unexpected vulnerability in the otherwise so strong and composed man that made him itch with longing. Hawke sighed as he wrapped his arms around Fenris' waist, his body already reacting to the welcome distraction. Lyrium came to life. The markings made the contact with Hawke's hands travel through his entire spine. The sensation - warm, tingling, fire, ice and electricity intertwined - was so powerful he would have dropped down if he had been standing. Fenris pressed closer and claimed Hawke's mouth with his tongue. The kiss felt new, different. No hairs prickling his upper lip and chin. Instead smooth skin, but not as smooth as his own, still with the interruption of stubble.

His weariness was forgotten for now. There was a more urgent need that demanded to be satisfied. Hawke groaned against Fenris' mouth while Fenris' fingers found the entrance to Hawke's smallclothes.

"Shhht," he hissed, remembering Isabela's presence in the third bed. He and Hawke both looked in her direction, but as far as they could tell she was vast asleep. Hawke bit his lip to remain quiet, but Fenris forced his mouth open for another kiss. Hawke moaned again around Fenris' tongue, as Fenris' hand fell into the right rhythm. No tormented moan this time, not one born from pain, grief or defeat, but one spawning from arousal. Under Fenris' touch Hawke's length quickly grew to its full size. Fenris himself did not even need extra attention to become completely hard. He longed to take possession of Hawke, but decided to restrain himself. He had started this to get Hawke's mind off the nightmare plaguing him. He should not allow his desire to turn his intentions into selfish wanting. So he was Hawke's tonight. Still, he could not bring himself to wait any longer. Fatigue continued to press behind desire.

He withdrew from the kiss. "Do we have..?" he whispered with a rough voice.

"I have a few poultices... but those are for emergencies..."

Fenris decided this could qualify as an emergency well enough. He hung over the edge of the bed to grab Hawke's bag. His markings gave everything around him a soft blue glow. At least it helped him find one of the poultices. He expected Hawke would protest against the use of his poultice, but there came no word. When he pushed himself back up with a poultice in his hand, he saw Hawke was looking at him, his eyes following the glowing lines that circled over his body. Fenris realized the markings easily shone through the fabric of his smallclothes, giving away every inch of his erection. Unease and pride rivaled within him at Hawke's admiring gaze. To avoid this inner battle for the moment, he put a bit of poultice on the palm of hand, then closed his hand around Hawke's erection to cover him with the balm.

He neglected any further preparation. He knew how to ready himself without actual help. After having freed himself from his smallclothes he straddled Hawke and positioned himself. In the light of his markings he saw Hawke's excited expression dwindle. Two hands on his hips stopped him.

"Fenris..."

Another barrier. One known by Hawke, and thus also a barrier for him.

_"What Danarius said... '__The lad is rather skilled, isn't he'...__ your reaction... He... did not mean your skills as a bodyguard, did he?"_ Hawke's hesitant question, shortly after their encounter with Danarius, echoed in his head, and Fenris knew his reaction was resonating in Hawke's head. _Venhedis, Hawke!_ _Let me break through this barrier. This one most of all. This should not remain Danarius'... _Their reunion had not lasted long enough yet for them to overcome this specific position. They had been doing their best to make up for the lost years, but their eagerness had led them to bypass confronting moments like this and seek satisfaction in a different way. There were plenty of things to try after all... But now it had caught up with them and they were forced to face it.

"I want to feel you." Fenris could not come up with a better argument than that. Hawke's hold on his hips loosened a bit, allowing Fenris to drop an inch and make contact with Hawke's tip. Hawke's head rolled back, but he also strengthened his grip again to hold Fenris back.

"But..."

_No more 'buts'._ Fenris angled himself, then pushed down. He slid over Hawke's length until he had him buried to the hilt. Hawke made a startled noise that gradually turned into another moan. Fenris paused a moment. He actually had been a bit too impatient with this and needed some time to adapt to the sensation of Hawke filling and stretching him. When the alarm of his nerves subsided, he started rocking his hips. Back and forth. Careful at first, then more confident. Hawke's hands remained on his hips, no longer holding back, but encouraging and determining the pace. One hand shifted over his thigh to wrap around Fenris' hard member. Fenris curled his toes at the combination of the stimulation of Hawke's hand and Hawke inside him.

Neither of them had to wait long for climax to hit. When Fenris went over the edge, Hawke followed suit.

"Leto, master desires that you serve him during dinner. One of the other boys has fallen ill."

He nodded. "Yes, mother." They both knew "fallen ill" had more to do with the consequences of punishment than a true disease, but most slaves refrained from calling it that. Leto did not know why, just that that was the way it was.

"You know what to do, right? Bring in the plates and stand behind master's chair in case he needs something while he eats. You'll have to pour wine. _Don't spill_."

"Yes, mother. I know."

His mother smiled at him and brushed his hair from his eyes. "Good boy. Perhaps master will like you. It can be useful for you if he does. Maybe you'll get a bit more food then. You're growing so fast."

"Fenris?"

He was lying on top of Hawke, his chin against his chest. Beads of sweat collected at the small of his back and his buttocks. He felt Hawke's seed leaking from him. Hawke whispering his name pulled him back from his flashback. As usual, the memories fled from him as soon as he returned to the present. It was just him and Hawke again. He lifted his head to show Hawke he was conscious. Hawke put his arms around him. His markings hummed where they were touched, but not so viciously as before.

"More memories?"

Fenris growled an acknowledgement. With his desire fulfilled, fatigue was all that was left. He let his head rest on Hawke's chest again, too tired to move and seek out his own bed.

From far away he heard Hawke's voice as he drifted off to sleep, but the meaning of his words did not come through.

"We're going to be okay. I promise. Messed up as we are. We will disappear and live a quiet life, with no more fighting and death. I won't fail again."


	3. Chapter 3

They got only a few hours of sleep after that. Fenris did not feel well-rested when he was woken up by Hawke sitting upright in the narrow bed. It was like he had only just gone to sleep instead of hours ago. Apparently he had gotten used to a good night's rest since he was no longer a hunted slave. Now he would have to fall back into the old habits of somebody on the run. He rubbed his eyes to drive the sleep away and looked at Hawke. At least he would not be alone this time.

"Good morning guys!"

_Really not alone._

Isabela was already out of bed and getting dressed. She was busy pulling her ridiculously long boots up, but still managed to send Hawke and Fenris a mischievous smile.

"I've had _such_ a lovely dream tonight," she sighed. "Very... arousing."

Hawke swung his legs over the edge and stretched his back. "Let me guess, you dreamed about sex."

"Good guess! It was amazing. I could hear everything, smell everything, _see_ everything. Almost like it was real..."

"Hear, smell, see... not feel? Sounds like that dream was lacking in the most important aspect."

"Oh, but I was not the one having sex."

Only now Hawke became somewhat suspicious. "Your dream was about others...?"

Isabela's grin was outright wicked. With one hand pressed against her bosom, she moaned obscenely. ""I want to feel you,"" she imitated with a low voice.

Fenris was more awake now too. Isabela had been aware of their intimacy last night after all. That was... embarrassing. Next to him, Hawke's freshly shaven cheeks turned bright pink. "You... you could have said something."

"What, and spoil everybody's fun? I don't think so."

"But... but it's private."

"Then you shouldn't do it in the same room I sleep in, sweet thing. If your talking hadn't woken me up, your sounds later on would have. You're not the quiet type."

Hawke's face was now a deep red, a color that did not go very well with that of his hair. Usually he could handle being teased; Hawke possessed a healthy dose of self-mockery, but when it came to sex he was more easily embarrassed. Too bad for him that all Isabela's senses were fine-tuned to pick up any sexual clue in her environment. She had guessed right when Hawke and Fenris had spent the night together for the first time, and had seized the first opportunity to eavesdrop on them. It had not helped that Hawke had asked her to pick the locks on Fenris' door so that he could get inside and talk to him, which had allowed Isabela to simply walk inside after Hawke had gone upstairs.

Fenris tried to look unaffected by it all, although he had to agree the idea that Isabela had been able to hear everything was not pleasant. At least it had been dark... Then he remembered his glowing markings and growled.

The sound drew Isabela's attention. "I suppose he's not that bad after all?"

"Just... shut up," Hawke mumbled, his face still on fire.

"I was considering to ask you if I could join..."

"Ha, I don't think so."

"Are you sure? I think I can really _add_ something to the experience."

"Enough! Please, just drop it. Shut up."

To Fenris' surprise and dismay he felt something inside him stir at Isabela's seductive promise. He quickly turned on his stomach to hide the physical reaction to her words. He did not desire Isabela, nor did he desire to experiment in the bedroom. So why his body became aroused at a suggestion that was meant more as a joke than a serious offer... He decided that he was still struggling to become fully awake and that his drowsy mind was not fully functional yet. As long as he was lying in bed sleep was threatening to pull him back.

"Fine, fine. I'll go to Varric instead. He'll love to hear this!"

Before Hawke could stop her, Isabela had run off to tell the story - undoubtedly with a few extra "details" - to Varric. "Ugh," Hawke grunted. "Lesson learned: only have sex in complete privacy. She will never let us forget this."

"I suppose we could have seen that coming," Fenris replied wryly.

"I suppose so... Well, I think we should better get up before Isabela has had the chance to turn this into something that's even worse than what she caught us doing. She is probably going to tell Varric that she actually joined us." Hawke placed a hand on Fenris' shoulder. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine. I'm just still tired."

"It has been a short night. I'm sorry for waking you up."

Fenris turned his head to the side to look at Hawke. The blush was subsiding. So was Fenris' unwelcome erection and drowsiness. "No need to apologize. I can't say I regret it."

And the blush returned. It brought an amused smile to Fenris' face. Who knew the Champion of Kirkwall could get a face as red as the band Fenris wore around his wrist? Although perhaps Hawke could no longer be called that... Would the templars or the Chantry scrap his name from the records after his part in the mage rebellion? Would they take down the statue they had put up in his honor only a few years ago? Or just remove Hawke's name from the base of the statue? It was not like the heavily armored figure bore any resemblance to Hawke's person. The thing even wore a helmet, something Hawke was not likely to own. Not that it mattered much. It was unlikely they would ever return to Kirkwall. Before he could have gotten used to the idea he could build a real life with Hawke in Kirkwall, the option had been removed. Things never turned out as anticipated, neither for him nor for Hawke.

"Eh... I'm glad you're taking it so well, but I think it's better to postpone the... eh... intimate acts from now on until we have a room for ourselves."

Fenris nodded. He felt like he should be more bothered by Isabela witnessing him and Hawke together, but for some reason he found it difficult to care. There were more important issues.

"How are you now?" he carefully inquired, recalling Aveline's concern and the nightmare that had upset Hawke so much. He would rather not ask questions like that. So far they had opened up to each other when they felt like it. Fenris was not eager to start prying now. He did not want to seem overly concerned or distrustful of Hawke's state of mind. If something was truly bothering him, Hawke would say so. And yet Aveline's inquiry had planted the seed for restless worry inside Fenris. She had made him feel like he did not care enough to even ask how Hawke was doing, made him feel like a bad friend, a bad lover. He hated that. But due to his lack of experience in any type of relationship, it was not unlikely that he actually was bad at it. He was still learning. And he did not want to spoil it.

Hawke scratched his chin and made face. "It's fine. I will be fine. Except that I regret shaving my beard. It itches! You must have done it wrong."

Fenris forced himself out of bed to gather his clothing. "You don't have hairs on your cheeks and chin anymore and I haven't cut you. I'd say that is exactly how it needs to be done."

"How would you know, you have never had to shave!"

_Not myself, no._ "If you hate it so much, let it grow back. Perhaps you can cut your hair instead. Or shave _that _off." He started putting on his trousers.

"Oh no, no. The hair stays. I have fought many intense battles against Mother for that. She hated it when I decided to let it grow. The day it was longer than hers and Bethany's... never again has she complained so loudly. Me keeping it in a braid was actually the closest to a compromise we could get."

"It appears your acts of rebellion have expanded since then," Fenris said while he buttoned up his tunic.

"Hmpf, that's not funny. I would have given a lot for arguments about my hair being my biggest problem."

Fenris chuckled. "So would I."

Hawke combed with a few fingers through his messy hair while he looked around the room. "Do I have a comb here somewhere?" He picked up his bag from the ground, rummaged through it and put it back. "Damn it. I _always_ forget to take a comb with me." He fished his robes from the ground and put them over his head. He was finished at the same time as Fenris was, who was considering if he should put on his steel breastplate.

"Leave that heavy thing be, Fenris," Hawke said, again fervently combing with his fingers through his hair. His struggle did not have much effect. "We don't have to fight here, and if this ship somehow ends up sinking, you don't want to be wearing armor."

Fenris hesitated. For years he had always worn all his armor; breastplate and gauntlets included. Simply no longer putting it on in the morning... it felt wrong. He felt vulnerable without it. Danarius was gone, there would be no more armies of slavers hunting him... but because of Hawke he was on the run again. Not alone this time, but still. You never knew if a crowd was about to turn against you, if there was an ambush waiting around the corner. But even his trained paranoia had to admit the odds were small while they remained on board of this ship. They were forced to keep to themselves in their cabins anyway, to avoid being recognized by other refugees. Eventually he agreed with Hawke and left his breast plate lying on the ground.

Hawke took the two steps it took to cross the small room and reach Fenris. He took Fenris' hand in his own hands and pulled off the steel gauntlet.

"You can do without those too," he said. He took off the other gauntlet as well. "I'd like to actually feel your hand when I touch you."

Fenris raised his eyebrows. "I thought you wanted to save the "intimate acts" for when..."

"I didn't mean it that way," Hawke quickly said. "The touching your hand, I mean. I... oh, forget it, you're just messing with me on purpose!"

"I wouldn't dare." Fenris turned around. "Isabela might have told her version of the story already."

"Oh, shit, you're right." Hawke sprinted away to save what little of his reputation he could.

* * *

Their ship reached Amaranthine without incident, although the journey could have been shorter if the wind had been more willing to cooperate. Still, it only took them a few days. In Amaranthine Hawke successfully managed to acquire a small ship. Thanks to Isabela's connections, a modest crew was hired as well. All Fereldans, and thus far less likely to recognize Hawke as the Champion of a city in the Free Marches. Most Fereldans had been too busy rebuilding their country after the Blight to care about foreign events.

They spent one day to gather as many resources as they could: food, water, new clothes, potions and poultices. Pressed by the rest of the group, Hawke yielded and bought pants, something he then continued to complain about almost as much as the loss of his precious beard.

Hoping to pick up some news, Varric went to the local inn, but it turned out their ship carried the news. They were the first to reach Amaranthine, so the refugees pouring out were the ones to bring information of the mage rebellion in Kirkwall. A few hours after they had reached the harbor, the streets were buzzing with stories of an army of blood mages, abominations and possessed templars destroying Kirkwall. No official word yet, and the Chanter's board did not contain a wanted poster of Hawke or any of his companions. It seemed they had been fast enough and would be able to get a decent head start on any potential pursuers.

All in all they had reason to be hopeful when they sailed away from Amaranthine. Rialto Bay was set as their destination for the time being. With summer coming to an end it was safer to sail to warmer areas up north. The Fereldan part of the Amaranthine Ocean was known for its vicious storms during fall and winter. Rialto Bay gave access to both Antiva and Rivain, providing plenty opportunities to disappear.

* * *

Fenris sat next to Hawke - who was now wearing one of his new pair of pants -, close to the fire basket they had placed on the ship's deck. It helped to stay warm when dusk drew near and the sun lost most of its power. It had been a grey, chilly day, with occasionally a bit of rain, just like the days before that. It was dry now though, so most of the group had decided to get some fresh air. Hawke tended to turn a little green when he stayed below deck, so he was especially eager to get out of the small cabin he and Fenris now shared.

"Hey, Fenris, read this," Hawke suddenly broke the silence, pushing a large tome under Fenris' nose.

It had a dark, rugged leather cover with strange symbols Fenris could not read. He guessed they were runes. The leather binding had stains on it that looked an awful lot like blood. The book radiated a dark aura that made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. His markings gave off a tingling feeling as a warning. Instinctively he leaned back to put more distance between himself and that mysterious book.

"What is that?" he asked suspiciously.

Hawke looked a bit guilty. "Do you remember the blood mage Tarohne, who wanted to infiltrate the templars with possessed recruits?" When Fenris nodded slowly, Hawke continued: "And the books she had left, protected by demons, that contained information on her forbidden magic?"

Fenris' gaze darkened. "You mean the books we destroyed?"

"Yes, those. Except for... uhm... well, this one." At Fenris' threatening stare, Hawke nervously scratched his chin. "Don't look so reproachful. I didn't intend to keep it. But I found it after an appointment with the Viscount, and I didn't dare to destroy it on my own, with all the demons that guarded the other tomes. So I took it with me, thinking I could destroy it later when I had some of the others as back up. But then I... forgot about it. I had it on one of my shelves in the library for a long time. Recently it caught my eye again, and... I browsed through the pages a bit." He stretched out his arms to open the book. He tapped with his finger on a page. "And then I read this. I thought maybe it applies to you, so I decided to hold on to it a little longer."

Fenris did not feel very tempted to read even one word of a thing that was so obviously stained by foul magic, but Hawke insisted. "Come on, just read that part. The book won't bite."

"No." With a look of disgust on his face, Fenris closed the book and handed it back to Hawke. "If it's so important, just tell me what it says."

Hawke scratched his chin again. "Fine," he sighed. "It describes the process to make... victims more susceptible to demonic possession. Usually a decent amount of pain is enough for the subject to give in, but the book mentions the possible "benefit" of inflicting even more torture. Most people just snap at some point; they go completely insane, or they die. Those are of little interest. But some... I'm not sure what exactly happens - I don't think Tarohne fully understood either - but some break. It's not the same as the ones going insane. The ones who break, let go of their personality, their memories and feelings. They let go of their soul to find that extra bit of resolve that is needed to cope with the extreme pain. It leaves the person empty. Sane, but a blank slate. Apparently those are optimal conditions for possession to take place. Somehow it leads to a better merging with the demons, especially higher-ranking ones, like Pride or Desire. The result is a very intelligent abomination, with great power at its disposal. The physical changes in these cases are minimal, so the abominations are almost impossible to detect. Until they decided to attack you, of course."

Fenris stared into the fire, trying to make sense of Hawke's story. "What can this possibly have to do with me?" he eventually asked.

"Think about it. The ritual left you with no memory of your life before, and-"

"I am not possessed by some kind of demon!"

"I wasn't suggesting that. The book is focused on possession, but the breaking of a person has nothing to do with demons. It's the pain that causes that. You are not possessed, but you've been broken, Fenris."

Irritation over Hawke's decision to keep such a damned book and push it under his nose turned into white-hot anger at that statement. Through gritted teeth, Fenris said: "And is there a way to "fix" me, or did you just want to tell me I'm weak?"

"Weak? Fenris, the things the book describes to reach the level of pain required to break someone... it's horrible. I think you're exceptionally strong that you survived something similar. But unfortunately the book only focuses on inflicting pain. It doesn't say anything about treating a broken person. Tarohne was only interested in breaking them. It's a shame we've destroyed the others books... Maybe one of the others-"

"Venhedis, Hawke!" Fenris jumped up, yanking the book from Hawke's hands. The anger inside him exploded into a rage that consumed every other thought. "You should have destroyed the cursed thing after you found it! There is no aid to be found in its pages!" _What has magic touched that it doesn't spoil?_ "What do you want me to say about your bloody finding? I do not harbor a demon inside me, and I don't need to be told I'm broken!" He raised his hand.

"No, wait!"

And threw the tome into the fire basket. As soon as the cover touched the flames, the book exploded. The fire started to shift, moved slower, became thicker and more solid. It concentrated until it had become as thick as pudding. The heat became more intense while the molten fire shaped itself. Two claws appeared. With a load roar the rage demon lifted itself from the basket. It did not waste time to scan its surroundings. Hawke, still sitting on Fenris' right side, was the first the demon saw, and thus the first to get a bolt of fire his way.

Hawke pushed himself backwards and spread his legs. The fire bolt hit the deck right between them, but it could not prevent that his pants caught fire. He quickly raised his hands to cool the flames and put them out before he scrambled to his feet.

"Which part of "guarded by demons" did you forget?" he shouted above the roars of the rage demon.

Fenris did not answer. The claws of several shades forced him to quickly grab his sword. He had not reached the point he dared to leave his blade out of sight, and now he cursed Hawke for persuading him to leave the heavier parts of his armor in their cabin. He cursed his own hot-heatedness that had made him throw the book in the fire. He cursed Hawke for keeping the bloody thing in the first place, and for wishing he had kept the others as well. Fury rushed through his veins and set the markings ablaze. The power of their activation overwhelmed all sensory information and made his limbs go numb. The sensation was disorienting, and it took him a few seconds to adjust. Then he lashed out, right on time to drive the shades back that surrounded him. Next to him Hawke held his hands in front of his body. After a snap of his fingers the approaching rage demon was pierced by a dozen ice spikes. The monster screamed at the contact of its fire form with the ice.

"Where's your staff?" Fenris yelled at him.

"Below deck. I didn't think I'd need it when reading a book."

"That was not an ordinary book!"

"Only when you throw it in the fire."

_Damn him and that witty mouth of his._

Luckily they were not alone on board. A bolt in the dark shape of shade's head announced Varric's arrival. He was followed by Merrill, who did have her staff with her. A moment later Aveline and Donnic stormed into the fray, sword and shield ready. Together they made quick work of the demons and it was not long before the unearthly sounds had died away and the ship was quiet again.

"Where did those bastards come from?" Varric asked while he hung his crossbow on his back.

Fenris' eyes shot to Hawke, but Hawke was busy inspecting the damage done to his pants. The demon had burned the fabric on the inside of his thighs away so that part of his legs were visible. He looked ridiculous.

"Hawke?" Aveline's judging gaze focused on the top of Hawke's head.

"Look what the demon has done to my pants!"

He was not sure if Hawke was covering for him, but Fenris suddenly felt ashamed. In his anger he had rashly endangered everyone on board. Unleashing a group of demons on a small ship... He brusquely turned away when he noticed Merrill's eyes looking in his direction. He stomped to the rear of the ship to be alone.

_Broken._ Like he needed Hawke to tell him Danarius had destroyed everything about him that made him normal. As if he did not already know.

Only when he leaned over the rail and stared at the horizon, his markings quieted. He had thought the foothold of his anger had been destroyed when he had taken Danarius' life. But now his anger had taken control once more, making him act like a fool. Thinking back, he did not even fully understand what had made him lose control like that. He trusted Hawke, trusted his resolve and morals. Hawke had only regretted destroying Tarohne's tomes because he believed they could contain information to help Fenris. Misguided and optimistic as that was, it was no excuse for his outburst. With his rage gone, he was left with the feeling of weariness he was struggling with since they had fled Kirkwall.

Anticipated footsteps resounded on the wooden deck. Fenris did not have to look over his shoulder to know it was Hawke. He kept his eyes fixed on waves far away.

Hawke leaned next to him on the rail. "I usually apologize when I have messed up and know others have reason to be angry. But in this case I don't think I understand. So... care to give me a reason to apologize?"

Clenching his jaw, Fenris said nothing. He continued to stare into the distance.

Hawke sighed. From the corner of his eye Fenris saw him rubbing his chin. The gesture was turning into habit. "I know you're not possessed," Hawke said. "And I never meant to suggest that you are weak. I admire your strength. Saying you've been broken might have sounded wrong, but that is no reason to unleash a bunch of demons on the ship."

Hawke tried to be reasonable, but this only irritated Fenris more. _Come on, Hawke. Say what you have to say. Be mad, I deserve it._ In an attempt to get more of a reaction from Hawke, he persisted in his silence.

It worked. "Listen, Fenris," Hawke said with a low voice that suggested annoyance and limited patience. "A demon burned the pants off my ass, and you can't be bothered to give an explanation. What in the Void is wrong with you?"

Slowly Fenris turned his head to meet Hawke's eyes. The light blue irises looked able to shoot ice spikes just as well as Hawke's hands. "I don't know," he said.

"You'll have to do better than that!"

"I don't know, Damian!" Fenris yelled back. He abruptly turned back to face the ocean again. He could hear Hawke breathing hard through his nostrils. He expected Hawke to walk away, but a few silent minutes later he was still there. _Of course. I'm the one who runs away here. Hawke never runs. Hawke stays._

"I apologize," Fenris eventually said. "I don't know what came over me. It won't happen again."

"That's not much of a promise, since there are no more tomes protected by demons left."

Fenris scowled at the ocean. "You know what I mean."

Another silence. Then Hawke straightened his back. "I'm going to get changed. I'll see you when you are done brooding."

Fenris did not stop Hawke. After a few seconds he glanced over his shoulder to watch him walk away. The seriousness of the effect was mostly lost because his pants indeed had been burned on the backside as well, providing a nice view on the lower part of Hawke's buttocks. Something inside Fenris' own trousers twitched at the sight. The idea that they had been arguing with Hawke's ass barely covered was both laughable and arousing. The urge to follow and grab Hawke there welled up inside him. Fenris shook his head, ran a hand through his hair and forced his eyes in a different direction. Trying to find an answer to Hawke's question was more important: what in the Void was wrong with him?


	4. Chapter 4

Fenris failed to come up with an answer to the question, but the daily events on board of the ship returned to normal nonetheless. Hawke did not really seem angry about his book being destroyed. Annoyed was a more fitting term. Yet within a few days he appeared to have forgotten about it; Hawke was not one to hold a grudge. Fenris knew Hawke did not actually forget anything - or very little at least - but he was content enough to let the matter rest. This way his own embarrassment could mostly be ignored as well.

At the end of the day they had docked in their next destination: Antiva City. They had spent as many days on sea as possible, drawing out the journey by sailing around rather aimlessly, but once in Rialto Bay sailing in circles would likely be noticed, so they decided to visit the nearest major port. Isabela, who proved to be more bossy than Hawke as soon as she had a ship underneath her boots, decided who had permission to leave the ship at a certain time, and who had to keep watch. Fenris was assigned the first watch of the evening. The job was not that important; none of them expected any trouble. It was mostly meant to keep trespassers away, and since their group was large enough, the watch would not be long. No more than a few hours.

Hawke, not of a mind to suffer with Fenris, went to play cards with Varric and Merrill in the captain's cabin. Which was fine by Fenris. Hawke would only distract him. Although he agreed with everyone else nothing was likely to happen, he was not completely at ease in the capital of a land that was basically ruled by a group of assassins. The Chantry would not hire the Crows to deal with Hawke... or would they? Much could happen behind the scenes, unbeknownst to the Divine or even a Grand Cleric. Petrice had proven that much.

Fenris shook his head. It was no good to make himself more nervous without reason. Nobody knew where they were. And perhaps no one was even looking for them. Tomorrow Varric would pull some strings to gather news and they would know for certain whether their escape had been successful or unnecessary.

Preparing himself for a few hours in quiet contemplation, Fenris positioned himself against the main mast, his sword right next to him. The sun had set, but the air remained warm. While Ferelden and the Free Marches started to grow cold by this time of the year, intense summer heat had just retreated from Antiva, leaving a more pleasant temperature in its wake. Fenris listened to the splashing of the ocean against the ship and the sound of waves on a beach farther away, while he watched the sky darken. It was almost as if whispers could be heard in the soft noises of the water. Words, barely heard, their meaning unclear. It had a peaceful, relaxing effect.

Fenris shifted his weight a little and adjusted his position against the mast. It was quickly darkening now. He could not see farther than a few meters past his lantern. He had to rely more on his ears; anyone approaching would be heard long before he could be seen. When he closed his eyes, the sounds of the sea and the whispers concealed in it intensified. With each soft wave, Fenris felt himself become a bit more drowsy. His head rolling to one side warned him for approaching sleep. He quickly stood upright, flexing his arms and legs to shake off the weariness. He peered into the now complete darkness. Far away, lights shone behind windows. On the streets it was quiet. Most sailors had found a tavern to spend the evening with drinking, gambling and fighting. Only the calming sound of the sea was to be heard. The lights in the distance grew smaller and faded, till darkness was all that was left. The thud with which the back of Fenris' head hit the wooden mast made him realize he had his eyes closed again. With some difficulty he forced them open. He had to stay alert.

It was odd that sleep forced itself so much on him lately. Perhaps the many years he had made due with only a few hours per night was taking its toll? Still, it was hardly late. He should have no trouble staying awake a couple of hours longer.

The sultry night air enveloped him like a warm blanket. A faint breeze caressed his face like a lover's touch. The sea whispered to him, encouraging him to let go, promising rest. Fenris' eyelids drooped once more.

_"Sleep."_

He had to sit down. Just for a moment. Give his heavy legs a little rest.

_"Rest now."_

Nobody would try to get on board during those few minutes.

_"Come. Sleep."_

No one would know. Not even Hawke.

Hawke triumphantly piled up tome after tome around him. "I have studied them all," he said cheerfully. "And I have found out how to let a demon successfully merge with you. You'll be so powerful, Fenris. Invincible!"

Fenris clenched his fists. "You will do no such thing."

The enthusiastic glimmer in Hawke's eyes turned sharp. "You will do as I say, little wolf."

The way Hawke's face was set in determination, the hunger for power in his eyes, it reminded Fenris so strongly of Danarius that he did not hesitate. He took a step forward, his markings flared up, he plunged his hand into Hawke's chest; all in one fluent movement. He felt no regret, no remorse as he withdrew his blood-covered hand. None of those weak mortal inner struggles. He felt free, an immense satisfaction, and a thirst for more...

A boot nudging his side disrupted his sleep. Fenris peeked up from under his eyelashes, his vision unfocused yet.

"What's this? Sleeping on the job?" Isabela scolded. "You're lucky you're Hawke's boyfriend, or I'd have you flogged."

Still weary, Fenris struggled to get to his feet. Shame screwed his throat shut. "I... I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Isabela folded her arms across her chest. The disapproving gesture reminded him vaguely of Aveline. "What's wrong with you? Sleeping at this hour! What are you, eight?"

Her words managed to bypass his embarrassment and reach his pride to wound it. "I said I'm sorry," he said brusquely. "Now leave it be."

"Oh, I don't think so. I'm not going to let you off that easy." Fenris' glare failed to intimidate the pirate. "We're all counting on each other here," she said. "A well-trained Crow would have slipped on board and slit your throat as soon as your chin reached your chest."

He eyed her with surprise. "Are you expecting they..."

Isabela waved his words away. "No, I'm expecting nothing of the sort. That doesn't mean you can sleep when you have to keep watch. There are always potential troublemakers. Thieves, scum. Far less dangerous than the Crows, but unwelcome on board of my ship nonetheless."

Fenris did not correct her by saying it was currently Hawke's ship. "I assure you I didn't mean for it to happen," he said remorseful. "I know what's at stake. I know..." _What's it's like to be on the run._ But how could he have fallen asleep then? If he was unable to stay awake when it counted, he would have been recaptured within the first month of his escape. Sometimes he had been forced to continue for days without food or sleep to evade his hunters. And if he had slept, the lightest sound would alert and wake him. Yet he had dozed off this evening, and only Isabela's boot had woken him up. Foolish. Amateurish. And then there was the dream... the nightmare. Death had always played a prominent part in his dreams. The ones in which he was forced to kill Hawke were the worst of them all. But this dream... it was the first time he had not felt awful after he had murdered Hawke in a nightmare. Instead he had experienced genuine glee. Somehow that was far more disturbing than the nightmares from which he awoke screaming and weeping.

Isabela's face softened somewhat. "So long as it was a one-time-thing," she warned.

Fenris nodded. "It won't happen again." He remembered promising Hawke the same not long ago, after his outburst. He had to watch himself in the future, regain control.

* * *

The afternoon of the next day Fenris and Hawke had permission to leave the ship and explore Antiva City. The sun seemed determined to prove she was not out of business yet, and her heat made Hawke's clothing stick to his back, soaked with sweat. Fenris, more used to a temperature like this, was not nearly as affected by it as Hawke. Whereas Hawke's light skin was already plagued by sunburn, Fenris simply colored a deeper bronze, increasing the contrast with his markings. It was not until now that he became aware of how much lighter his skin had gotten during the years he had lived in cooler Kirkwall.

The warmth did give them purpose. On a ship the sanitary facilities were quite limited, and being able to take a bath was a scarce luxury, as washing oneself with the salt water of the ocean was not recommended. It had left them all longing for a decent opportunity to clean themselves up. Especially Hawke.

"I admit I've gotten used to a few of the perks of being a noble," he said. Heavy body odor surrounded him. A deep, manly musk. Fresh beads of sweat rolled down his temples, to cheeks the sun had marked with a permanent blush. Fenris found the smell heady and... very appealing. Hawke was hardly the image of desirable man at the moment, with his face red, his thick mass of auburn hair hanging in damp, lifeless strands around his head, and long warm days without taking a bath. And yet Fenris would very much like to catch one of those drops of sweat on Hawke's face with his tongue. And give him reason to sweat some more. "I hope we find a public bath house soon. I smell like a cheap brothel!"

"How would you know what that smells like?" Fenris asked absent-mindedly. His eyes trailed over the staff on Hawke's back and followed it down to his ass. The thick woolen trousers accentuated the shape. Why had he not noticed that before? He felt his length swell inside his own leather leggings. He really wanted to squeeze Hawke's buttocks, part them, bury himself within...

"Fine, I smell like the Hanged Man after the crew of an entire ship got drunk there."

He wanted to _feel_... Fenris groaned through gritted teeth. This was ridiculous! It was not as if he had not seen Hawke's behind before! There was no reason he would suddenly grow so maddeningly hard, no reason for the rise of this urge within him to shove Hawke into the nearest alley and take him there.

Hawke looked to the side at the tormented sound. His hand shot up to his staff, his gaze immediately alert. "What is it?" Hawke whispered. "'Did you hear something?"

Fenris gave Hawke an odd look. "No."

Hawke relaxed. "Oh. I thought you sensed enemies nearby. Your markings are glowing. And you made a... noise."

A look down confirmed Hawke's words. In broad daylight it was less noticeable than in the dark, but the lines on his arms and even on his feet had turned blue and shimmered faintly in the sun. Fenris frowned darkly at his arms, as if they had committed some kind of crime. He had not noticed their activity. Perhaps it had something to do with his overwhelming arousal? He knew the markings lit up beyond his conscious control when things heated up with Hawke. Hawke could rarely resist to joke about it. But that required Hawke's touch. Fenris focused on the markings. After a short delay of a few seconds, they obeyed and calmed. The blue color disappeared.

"Your clothes are too thick," he said to Hawke, in an attempt to take his mind off the things he wanted to do. "You should wear something else than wool."

Hawke made a face. "I bought these in Amaranthine, remember? What would you expect? Temperatures like this are not allowed in Ferelden."

"It's not that hot."

"Not that hot!" Hawke sputtered. "You mean it can get even warmer here?"

"In Tevinter, people are relieved when it's this temperature outside."

Hawke shook his head. "How can they stand it. You look barely affected by it too, and you are in full armor!"

Fenris shrugged, then halted. "This looks like a bath house," he said. _Good._ He could use a cold, cold bath.

* * *

The cold bath provided only temporary relief. Once they were cleaned up, they visited the market district so that Hawke could purchase some clothes that did not count on snow being the most likely weather condition. While Hawke was browsing through the wares of a merchant with an impressive black beard, Fenris looked around at the other market stalls. A great variety of goods was available. From the daily fruit, meat and vegetables to fine silks and delicate jewelry. The market square was very crowded; the stalls were squeezed together to fit in as many as possible. Customers shuffled past the merchants, who loudly complimented their own wares. Every now and then his ears picked up a whispered word in the mass of unfamiliar language.

_"Give in."_

_"Desire."_

He turned around, searching for a person who could have spoken. Nobody caught his eyes. _Strange people, Antivans._

After Hawke had made his purchase - while eyeing the beard of the Antivan merchant enviously - they continued their way through narrow streets until they reached the outer skirts of the city and eventually a beach, located in a small bay. Hawke trudged to the single tree located on the edge of beach and grass, and collapsed in its shade.

"I'm already sweating again," he sighed. "I clearly don't have Antivan blood in me. Maybe-"

He was cut off by Fenris, who jumped on top of him and began to savor his mouth with a demanding kiss. He could not wait. He felt like he was ready to burst, his erection throbbing in need. Without much ceremony, Fenris started to pull at Hawke's trousers with his gauntleted hand. He gave Hawke a moment to catch his breath by running his tongue along his neck, tasting the salt of fresh sweat. He heard fabric tear.

"W... wait," Hawke gasped, mouth hanging open. "You... you want to do this here?"

Fenris growled in acknowledgement against Hawke's throat. He felt Hawke swallow. "There's no one here," he rumbled. "And I want you." With Hawke's trousers down to his knees, Fenris quickly tended to his own clothing. He did not bother taking off his leggings completely. He pressed down on Hawke, with his trousers remaining on his ankles.

"Turn around."

Hawke raised his eyebrows. "Are you in a hurry?"

Another growl. Fenris grabbed Hawke's sides and flipped him over. The sharp gauntlets dug into the skin of his hips and buttocks and left red scratches. From the deepest parts blood welled up. Hawke let out a protesting yelp, which turned into a whimper and then a breathy moan when Fenris took a fistful of Hawke's hair, pulled his head back and started suckling on his right earlobe. He was being rough - too rough, he knew - but Fenris could not help it. He could not wait. He just had to... have, had to feel... and when he pushed his pelvis down against Hawke's ass, he could feel Hawke was enjoying it by the way his back tensed.

The next step did require him to take off his gauntlets. Even through the lust that clouded all his thoughts, he realized that. At first he tried to undo the clasps of his right gauntlet with his teeth. When that did not go fast enough, he let go of Hawke's hair and undid the straps with his left hand. Hawke, whose head had been held up by the force with which Fenris was holding his hair, collapsed with his face on the sand.

"Thanks for that," he sputtered with a mouth full.

Freed of the embrace of steel, Fenris pushed a finger through the tight ring of muscles that guarded Hawke's entrance. This was what he wanted, what he needed. His eagerness ushered him on, the weight of his hardness a constant reminder of what he desired so. Hawke's body resisted the second and third finger he added, with Fenris giving him so little time to adjust. When Fenris finally buried himself within Hawke, a shudder went through the mage. His breathing had sped up and was a bit shallow, to help cope with the stretching of his nerves. Fenris was deaf to it all. All that mattered was the delicious heat that surrounded him. He was already close to his peak. His left hand, still clad in steel, reached out and got tangled into Hawke's dark hair once more. He leaned over Hawke, quickening his pace, and pressed his lips against the back of Hawke's neck. Spots danced in front of his eyes. The waves that came crashing on the beach whispered to him, reaching his ears despite his ragged breathing.

_"Take."_

_"More."_

_"Faster."_

His hips spasmed. He sunk his teeth into Hawke's neck while his orgasm made him spill himself and shattered his consciousness.

Varania tucked at Mother's skirt.

"Mommy, where's daddy?"

Mother wiped her brow and sniffed before she looked down at Varania and answered. "Daddy won't be coming back. He's serving a new master now."

"I want daddy!"

"Hush, Leto. I told you, he's not coming back. He's... he's in a better place now. Now, take this tray and bring Master his tea."

He bowed his head and took the heavy tray. "Yes, mommy."

Two other slaves were busy scrubbing a corner of the grand hall. They brought their heads closer together as Leto passed them. He subtly slowed his step when he heard them whisper.

"Isn't that Isaiah's boy?" asked the first.

"It is. Poor thing. Would he know what happened?"

"No, Selena said she doesn't want the children to know."

The other shook her head. "Can't blame her. They probably wouldn't understand."

"What's there to understand? He's been bled to death for one of those experiments. No explanation can exist for that!"

"Sshhh! You can't yell things like that!"

He turned left around the corner. The two women were out of earshot now. Tears leaked from his eyes, although he did his best to blink them away. He did not understand everything the women had said, but he had heard Father's name and instinctively he knew that he was dead.

When he opened his eyes, he did not know where he was. There was sand underneath his back, the silhouette of a tree above him. Whispers of the sea in the distance.

"Fenris?"

A name. Who was Fenris? Was that supposed to be him? He was Leto.

The face of a man appeared. He looked concerned, his red forehead wrinkled, brow furrowed above his light blue eyes. A bead of sweat clung to the tip of his nose, refusing to let go. He felt the man's hand on his face and neck. A tingling heat spread from there, and with that returned the knowledge of who he was, to whom that face above him belonged. The memories of Leto dissolved simultaneously.

"Hawke?"

Hawke smiled at him. A careful smile that did not reach his worried eyes. "How do you feel? You've been unconscious for a while."

"How long?"

"Several minutes. Longer than with your usual flashbacks. You had me worried. Your eyes were turned upwards and your markings seemed to burn more brightly. I wasn't sure what to do."

Fenris wiped the hair from his brow with a shaky hand. He had to admit his was feeling light-headed. And tired. "I'm fine." He was not sure whether that was a lie or not.

"Do you know what happened?"

"I... I think it were the memories again." Already the regained knowledge had been lost, although a feeling of sadness lingered.

Hawke rubbed his chin. For a moment they were both silent. "This was a bad idea," he eventually said with a light-hearted tone. "I have sand everywhere now, and we've just been to the bath house!"

Fenris bit his lip. "I'm... I'm sorry. I don't know what has gotten into me. I know I was hurting you. I... I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

A soft squeeze in his neck. "It's okay. I mean... I _am_ a bit sore, but that'll pass. Just take it a little slower, next time. Alright?"

He nodded against Hawke's hand. With the rush of his desire gone, he felt all the more ashamed. The harder he tried to control himself, the more it seemed to slip away. He looked up to find Hawke's caring gaze on him. And he felt frightened. _Something _was wrong. With him.

The sea sighed.

_"Give in."_


	5. Chapter 5

Two more days they remained docked in Antiva City. When they sailed away, the ship's cargo bay was filled with various goods, thanks to Isabela's old connections. It would be useful to have legitimate reason to dock in the next harbors. Plus making some coin wouldn't hurt either. Hawke's purse had shrunk considerably the last weeks. Ships were not cheap, even small ones.

Despite Varric's report that the Chantry so far seemed determined to focus on the rebelling mages instead of Kirkwall's Champion, the mood on the ship remained tense. Everybody was occupied with their own thoughts, and apart from a few evenings of playing cards people kept to themselves. Isabela was busy being the captain of "her" ship, Merrill spent many hours in the crow's nest looking at the sky and the sea, Varric made the crew lose a lot of money and made up for it by telling wild stories, and Aveline and Donnic were often together in their quarters, probably discussing their plans for the future. Fenris tried to reign himself in, with limited success. Strange urges continued to beat against the bonds of his restraint, encouraged by whispers hidden in the waves of the ocean, the wind, and the conversations of groups. The question whether he was going - or already had gone - insane became increasingly pressing. In his distress he sought out quiet spots on board of the ship and kept to himself.

The only exception to the withdrawn behavior of the group was Hawke. He made sure to chat up with all his companions regularly. With the news that the Chantry was occupied with the Circle mages of Kirkwall, Hawke had become more relaxed. The chance that they would be hunted by angry templars seemed very slim now, and Hawke had decided he was free to enjoy the journey. Thanks to the calm weather his seasickness diminished as well, which further improved his mood. His sunburned face was a minor discomfort as far as he was concerned.

Fenris had just fallen back to an old strategy - drowning out any cursed doubts and whispers with alcohol - when Hawke tracked him down in the cargo hold.

"Why are you sitting here?"

Fenris took a few gulps from the already half-empty bottle of rum. It tasted even worse than the Hanged Man's ale, but Isabela insisted this was what sailors drank. The finest Antivan brandy was on board, but that was meant for trade. All the crew and passengers got was rum. So he drank rum.

He stared at the bottle for a few seconds before he remembered Hawke had asked him something. "Just... wanted some quiet."

He had not spoken to Hawke about his troubles. "I'm hearing voices" was not an announcement he was looking forward to. _And maybe it'll pass. Perhaps it's just the... air._

"Drinking on your own, huh?" Hawke sat down next to him. "Let me have a taste."

Fenris tried to hand Hawke the bottle, but instead Hawke pressed his lips against Fenris' mouth and kissed him, resulting in Fenris pushing the rum bottle uselessly against Hawke's chest.

"You're not hiding from me, are you?" Hawke mumbled against Fenris' lips.

"I am not."

_"Liar."_

_"You're a liar, Fenris."_

Judged by the feeling of Hawke's teeth against his mouth, he was smiling. "Good." Another soft kiss. "You know... I have fully recovered." A chuckle vibrated in his broad chest. Fenris felt it against the glass bottle he was still pressing against it.

It was obvious what Hawke was suggesting, and it was exactly why Fenris had been trying to keep to himself. After the way he had lost control, he was reluctant to let himself go. He hated how he had treated Hawke, that he had even hurt him without given it a second thought. Their lovemaking had been wild and a bit rough before, especially the first time after their reunion, but... that last time had been different. He had been unable to think of anything but his own lust, giving zero thought to the man he was with. That was not something he wanted, not someone he wanted to be. Inflicting pain and killing had been his sole purpose for far too long. He wanted to leave that behind.

But Hawke's remark and deepening kiss were enough to spark his arousal, and with that his doubts were forced to the background. He leaned forward, reaching with his free hand for the hair at the back of Hawke's head. Rum flowed out of the bottle and over Hawke's shirt as Fenris pushed him further back.

Hawke groaned and pulled away. "Woah, have you made it your life's purpose to ruin all my clothes? First my favorite robe, then you summon demons to burn my pants, a few days ago you tore my other pants, and now you throw rum on my shirt!"

"I _didn't_ summon demons."

"You did throw the book into the fire."

"I... if you have come here just to scold me, I advise you to leave. I am in no mood for your arguments."

Hawke got to his feet. "As much as I enjoy arguing with you, it's not why I came down here. Don't look so angry, you'll get wrinkles. Now, you _technically_ didn't summon any demons, so forget my poor choice of words and let's go."

Deciding to ignore the "technically" part, Fenris took Hawke's outstretched hand and stood up too. "Go where?"

"To our cabin, of course. You weren't planning on doing it here, were you?"

_"Want."_

Fenris cleared his throat. He actually was already past caring about their location. Desire demanded fulfillment, the sooner the better. Inwardly he reprimanded himself.

_Restrain yourself. Be strong._

_"That would be no fun."_

_"Take."_

_Shut up._

He followed Hawke up the narrow ladder. Their cabin was not far, and as soon as Fenris had kicked the door shut behind them, Hawke's arms were around him.

"You do owe me a new outfit," Hawke said while he pulled his tunic over his head.

Fenris snorted. He started unbuttoning his own clothes. His progress was a bit slow due to the amount of drink he had consumed. Hawke was already lying on the bed, waiting for him, when he was finally undressed. Fenris immediately accepted the invitation and sat down on top of Hawke, straddling his hips. He let his hands run through the fine layer of hair that covered the man's chest. Underneath his buttocks he felt Hawke become hard. He smiled to himself. He was in charge now. Hawke wanted him. He would determine when and how Hawke received satisfaction. He could make him moan and sigh and ask for more. He could let him reach that amazing high. He closed his eyes.

Hawke's heart was beating a little faster underneath his hands. The rhythm was steady and secure. Just as he could control Hawke's arousal, he could reach this pulsating center, the source of his life. He could feel it around him. Hawke was lying under him, breathing heavily, at Fenris' mercy. He could decide... He was in power. Hawke's heart was his. He had bared it to Fenris, and Fenris could take it if he wanted to.

_"Do it."_

This was Hawke's core, where his feelings resided. This silly heart that, for reasons that would always remain a mystery, had decided it belonged to Fenris. How vulnerable the source of life was, even that of a strong man. He could feel the pulse, feel it speeding up.

_"Kill."_

Hawke's voice disrupted his musings. "Fenris... what are you doing?" Something about Hawke's voice made him open his eyes. The words had sounded oddly strained, as if spoken in fear, or pain. Fenris' eyes met those of Hawke. Hawke's face was cast in a blue light that made him look pale despite the rosy color of his cheeks. His eyes were wide, unblinking. His mouth hung open a little. For a few heartbeats they stared at each other. The light blue of Hawke's eyes became glassy as tears welled up in them.

A feeling of unrest rose up in Fenris' stomach. Slowly he let his gaze drift lower. Over Hawke's stubbled jaw, his neck with the Adam's apple that moved as Hawke swallowed heavily, to the lighter skin of his breast, which was still, as if Hawke did not dare to breathe. Then Fenris' eyes reached the center of Hawke's chest. It took a moment before he realized what he was seeing and that his eyes were not deceiving him. His own arm, shimmering a ghostly blue, was sticking through Hawke's sternum. He could not see his hand.

The sight nearly made him lose control of his markings, but solidifying now would certainly be fatal for Hawke. Against his barely existing fingers he felt the beating of Hawke's heart. Shifting back to a normal state would tear a hole in Hawke's chest. With the greatest effort he maintained his phasing.

His eyes shot back up to Hawke's face. Hawke's gaze was still fixated on Fenris. Beads of sweat formed at his temples. He did not speak again, but just lay there, very still. Fenris focused on his arm. Very slowly, he started to retract his hand from Hawke's chest. He was trembling with the effort it took to concentrate. Every second he feared the tension would become too much and he would fail. Simply pulling away in one fluid motion would of course have taken less time and would have solved the problem a lot sooner, but he was so focused on doing it carefully that the idea did not even occur to him.

Finally his fingers came in sight. When the tip of his middle finger had been retracted at last, Fenris let out a scream that was echoed inside his head by the frustrated voices that disapproved of his action. He pressed his hands against his ears and jumped off the bed, rolled into a ball on the wooden floor and cried.

This... Nothing could be worse than this. His worst nightmare had come true. Almost. Without him even being aware of it! He had been so close to... if Hawke had not spoken at the time he had... The full horror of what he had been about to do crashed down on him. His mind could barely contain the consequences of it. In that short moment of drifting attention, his whole world had collapsed. He had very nearly killed Hawke. What was worse, it had not even taken an order from Danarius, or an antagonizing action from Hawke to drive him to it. It had been him. Just him. The nightmares had been merciful in their portrayal. In the end he himself was the monster. Meant to kill. Meant to destroy the only good thing his life had ever known.

He had been right to leave that night three years ago. His fears had been justified. Pain and death was all he had to offer. Selfishness had made him give in to his feelings for Hawke. And now Hawke paid the price.

Hawke started coughing violently as soon as Fenris removed his hand. Clutching his chest, he took wheezing breaths. On the stairs and in the hallway resounded heavy footsteps. A second later the door was being kicked open and Isabela stormed inside, daggers ready in both hands, followed by Varric with an arrow on his crossbow, and Merrill, Aveline and Donnic, all with weapons in hand. In the middle of the room they halted, looking for the fight they were anticipating. Instead they found a naked Hawke choking on the bed and Fenris - also naked - sobbing on the floor. The light of his markings pulsated in the rhythm of his sobs.

For a while the group stood dumb-struck. None of them was sure what to make of the situation. Isabela was the first to recover. Sheathing her daggers, she asked what seemed the only logical question: "Are you alright?"

Hawke pushed himself up, one hand still pressed against his chest. "I'm... I'm fine."

Fenris raised his head a little. "You're not fine!" he shouted through his tears. "I almost killed you!"

"What?!" Aveline took two large steps toward Fenris. One hand descended upon his shoulder and jerked him upwards.

"Don't touch him!" Hawke got unsteadily to his feet. A moment later he was kneeling next to Fenris, who had pressed his head against the floor again, hands covering his ears to shut out the noise. Noise that could not be shut out, because the whispers did not need his ears to get through to him.

Reluctantly, Aveline let go. Fenris felt her hand being replaced by Hawke's. He shrugged him off.

"No, Hawke! I... I... Stay away from me!"

The day Hawke would listen was the day the sun would stop rising and setting. "What's going on, Fenris?" he pressed. "What's wrong?" His voice croaked and sounded hoarse. The words were followed by a few coughs, but they were less frantic than before.

He had to wait a while for the answer. Fenris continued to shake from his sobs, but eventually he collected the last remains of the iron will he used to rely on. He knew what had to be done. He had proven to be weak and unworthy. His life had just come to an end. He lifted his head to look at Hawke, but the sight nearly made him break down again. Blood dripped from Hawke's bottom lip and the corners of his mouth. On the middle of his chest, a few inches above the scar on his abdomen where the Arishok had run him through with one of his blades, the skin was a mix of blue, purple and black hues, with the darkest colors at the center and gradually getting lighter towards the edges. With the tendrils on the outside, it reminded Fenris of the entropy clouds he had seen Merrill cast. He drew a shaky breath and forced himself to look at what he had done.

"I... I didn't mean to... I didn't want to..." Looking at that awful, accusing mark he had put there was too much. His crime was too grave. New tears rolled down his cheeks when he spoke again, with lowered head and eyes on the floor. "They told me to kill you," he whispered. "I did not realize what was happening."

A ripple of unrest went through the people in the room. He could sense it in the way Isabela shifted her weight, how Aveline inhaled sharply through her nose, how Donnic's fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword.

Hawke did not even lean away from him. "They? Who are "they"?"

Fenris knew the answer. How it could possibly be so, he did not know. It _should _not be possible. But he had recognized the whispers. He had heard a similar voice before, one time, the only other time he had betrayed Hawke and had turned on him. A subtle voice in his ears and in his head, painting images in his mind, images of the promise of power. He had hoped he would never have to face such evil again, but here it was. They had found him.

He squeezed his eyes shut while he replied. "Demons."

Unrest turned to disbelief, as he had known it would. Clothes rustled, armor screeched, soft mumbles resounded behind him. He could easily imagine the looks that were exchanged in addition to these mumblings.

"Demons," Hawke echoed. "But..."

Fenris' head snapped back up. "You do not need to tell me it is impossible, Hawke," he growled. "I hear them. They... they whisper to me. They tempted me... _tricked_ me into killing you."

"Could he be like Kelder?" Aveline suggested.

Hawke gave her a hard look. "No," he said defiantly. "Kelder was insane. Fenris is _not_ insane. If he says it's demons, I believe him."

"But how...? He doesn't have magic," Merrill said.

"It's got to have something do to with the markings." Hawke looked back at Fenris. "How long have you been hearing them? Why didn't you tell me?"

"At first it was hardly noticeable... I was uncertain whether I had actually heard something or that it was just the sea. I hoped it would pass. But it has been getting worse lately. They whisper to me, get in my head, mess with my mind... Hawke, you... you have to kill me. They won't stop. I don't want to hurt you, but I... I nearly..."

For the first time shock was written on Hawke's face. "Kill you? Don't be ridiculous!"

Fenris yanked at his hair in frustration. "Why don't you ever _listen_ to me?! I am a threat. To you, and to everybody else. What if I do crush your heart next time? What if..." His eyes widened in terror. "What if I do have a demon inside me already? I'm an abomination! Those templars were possessed, so it has to be possible..."

"I do listen! Just not when you're talking nonsense, which you're doing now. Nobody is going to die today, okay? I'm still alive, my heart is beating perfectly fine, nothing happened. So stop dramatizing this and calm down for a moment."

"Something did happen, and it's not fine!" Fenris snapped. He stretched out a finger and poked Hawke on the chest, so forcefully that Hawke fell back on his ass. "_That_ is not bloody fine!" Aveline's hand immediately returned to his shoulder, her grip strong and without mercy.

"I said not to touch him," Hawke warned her coldly. Her hand was removed once more, albeit with even more reluctance than before. "I _am _fine, Fenris. Look, it's already fading."

He was right. The darkest colors were gone, and the tendrils around the edges seemed to have withdrawn somewhat. It was starting look more like a regular bruise.

Fenris looked up at Hawke's face. "You've healed yourself," he said accusingly.

"I assure you I have not. It's not as bad as it looked. The pain is gone too."

"It's still too much." Fenris clenched his jaw. All muscles tensed in determination. "If you won't do it, I'll tear out my own heart." As he said this, he activated his markings, which had been lighting up at random during the conversation.

"No!" Before Fenris had had the chance to even raise his arm, Hawke had launched himself onto him and knocked him over. He landed heavily on his back, with Hawke on top of him, covering most of Fenris' chest. As if his body somehow would provide a barrier against Fenris' hand.

Hawke's face was so close that Fenris felt his breath on his lips when he spoke. "If you do that I swear I will put it back in to heal it and drag you back from the Void itself," he hissed. "Do you remember your experience in the Fade?"

"Of course I remember!" Fenris spat. "That's why I-"

"You promised me you had learned your lesson back then. You said it would never happen again."

Fenris tried to turn his head away, but Hawke dug his fingers in Fenris' cheeks and held him still. "I know, and I failed you again."

"No. You can still keep your promise. Unless your word to me means as little as your promise to Hadriana."

The image of Hadriana lying before him, helpless and defeated, flashed before Fenris' eyes. Furious he looked at Hawke. "You dare to compare-"

"No, shut up and listen to me! First: you're not possessed. You hear me? An abomination would not rip out its own heart. Any demon controlling you would never have allowed that to happen. Second: Tarohne was actively summoning demons to posses the recruits. You cannot become an abomination without magic that allows the demon to escape from the Fade. With mages it is a bit different, because the demon can utilize the mage's magic when the mage allows it. But you're not a mage, so you can't do that. And third: even if they could take possession of you without further aid of magic, they still can't do it against your will. You're strong. You can resist them. You know they try to tempt you with lies. Remember they cannot give you what you want, that they don't care about you; they're only interested in their own desires. _You_ are what _they_ want and need, not the other way around. Don't give in to them, and you'll be fine. I can help you with learning how to resist them. You're a quick learner; your reading and writing skills progressed so well. This will be just another lesson, another trick to learn. You're not going to hurt me, or anybody else. Because you don't want to, and they can't make you. Nobody is going to die. You're going to die of old age, after many years filled with wonderful, happy things. Your hair may be white, but you're not old by a long shot yet, so leave your heart where it's supposed to be. You're not alone. I love you, and I will not let you die."

Fenris blinked. "You... you what?"

On top of him, Hawke frowned in response. "What what? That your hair is white? I know you're not the vain type, but surely you must have passed a mirror at some time in your life..."

"No." Fenris licked his lips. "You said that... that you love me."

"Oh, that." Hawke relaxed visibly. "_That's_ what you picked up from my whole speech? Why do you look so surprised? Didn't I say it before? I thought it was pretty obvious."

"It _was _pretty obvious," Isabela interjected.

"Shut up, Isabela," Hawke and Fenris replied simultaneously.

She scoffed. "Very well. Sorry for disrupting... I'm not sure what this is."

"They're just words, Fenris. Don't tell me you are one of those people who make saying the word "love" the most important thing in the world. There are better ways to express it. Besides, I haven't heard _you_ use that specific word either. That doesn't mean I doubt your sincerity."

Hawke's grip on Fenris' face had ceased somewhat, so it was easier to look away now. Of course he knew Hawke cared deeply about him. After three years of running away Hawke was still there when he had returned. That in itself was convincing enough. And yet hearing him speak those three simple words moved something in Fenris. Perhaps it was the situation in which they had been spoken. Who would say they loved the person that had had his hand inside their chest moments earlier? Fenris had to be not the only person in this room whose sanity could be questioned. As for why he himself had not used the word "love" before... he had no explicit answer. Perhaps it was as Hawke said, that it was only another word and that other ways existed to show you cared about someone. Maker knew he had had trouble with those other ways as well.

_"Give in, Fenris."_

_"Listen to us."_

He did not want to lose this. He did not want to die. But living meant continuously fighting those cursed whispers. He had been fighting for so long already. And he had tried to fight the voices, but it had had little effect. They had brought him on the verge of murdering Hawke with ease. What hope was there then that he could resist? If only he was not so tired all the time... It might be easier. Fighting was difficult enough without having little energy left for it. He allowed himself to look Hawke in the eye. Hawke believed in him. And he had given Hawke his word. Killing Hadriana was not something he regretted. Doing it after he had given his word was. Part of being a free man was that your word meant something. With freedom came the obligation to keep your promises.

All those years striving for freedom would be meaningless if he just gave up now. Danarius had been dead for no more than a few months yet. His free life had just begun.

_To kill oneself is a sin in the eye of the Maker._

Perhaps he could still make up for his sins, instead of committing a new one. And he did have more that was worth fighting than ever.

"I love you too."

Hawke gave him what looked like a relieved smile. "I know that, you stubborn oaf." He let go of Fenris' face completely. "Does this mean your heart will remain where it is?"

Fenris nodded.

"Should we clap?" Isabela whispered, loud enough for everybody to hear.

"I'm not sure I want to applaud for this," Aveline responded.

Hawke's smile broadened. He ignored Aveline and Isabela. "Good. Resist them. Don't give them what they want. Be strong, and they will not have you." He looked up, over Fenris' head, to Aveline. "They will not have him."

A little confused Fenris tried to turn his head so that he could see Aveline's face, but from his position on the ground he could not get a clear view. He thought he saw her giving a nod. Hawke's words clearly had a special meaning, but he did not understand it. It was something between Hawke and Aveline.

"You're still naked," Isabela reminded them after a short silence.

"Right." Hawke pushed himself up, relieving Fenris of the extra weight on his chest. "Well, I guess everybody has seen everything by now, but-"

"Hmhm."

Hawke shifted on the floor to make sure his private parts were hidden from Isabela's gaze. "... but I suggest Fenris and I get dressed before we meet again. We obviously have some things to discuss, so I will see you all in Isabela's cabin within an hour to make plans."

Everybody nodded, and one by one they left the room. Only Aveline lingered.

"Do you want someone to stand guard, Hawke?" she asked.

Hawke gave her an icy look, his irises the color of frozen water. "Why? You're expecting an attack?"

Aveline glanced at Fenris, who had reverted back to his rolled up pose, hands between his legs and head lowered. Apparently Aveline did not dare to speak a direct accusation, but she did not go away either.

"I'm alright, Aveline," Hawke eventually said. "All is under control, and everything will be fine. We'll fix it. It's _fine_."

His expression made clear that disagreement would not be tolerated. After a few seconds Aveline gave in and left the room, softly closing the door behind her.

_You're an even bigger liar than I am, Damian._


	6. Chapter 6

Fenris stayed on the ground when Aveline had left. He held his head down, his arms rested on his legs, the palms of his hands turned upward. He stared at the lines that crossed those palms and travelled to their own respective finger. The hands of a murderer. The phasing had left no blood on his skin. No evidence was left on him. Only those lines, pulsating accusingly.

He was shaking. He could not stop it. He could not stop the pulsating of his markings, and he could not stop trembling. He felt nauseated; a foul taste clung to the back of his tongue. The influence of the rum had disappeared. Apparently trying to kill Hawke had a very sobering effect.

Kill Hawke.

Fenris clenched his hands into fists and pressed them down hard on his upper legs. He should be dead. He should not have let Hawke convince him. Demons had found a way into his head with their despicable whispers and he had hardly noticed it until it was almost too late. How could he fight something that seemed to be part of his own mind?

Two warm hands descended upon his hunched shoulders and tried to get him up.

"Come on," Hawke whispered. "Let's get you off the cold floor." Fenris did not resist the gentle pull. Awkwardly he got to his feet and allowed Hawke to position him on the bed. His eyes shot up to Hawke's chest. The coloring was reduced half its original size. Soon this last evidence of his crime would have faded too.

Hawke sat down next to him. "You should have said something," he said. "You should know by now you don't have to keep everything to yourself. You can talk to me."

Fenris' nostrils flared at those condescending words. "I'm sorry that I did not immediately announced the degradation of my mind," he snapped.

"You said you're hearing demons. That has nothing to do with being crazy."

Fenris turned his head to look at Hawke. "Is that so? You barely believed me yourself when I told you."

"I do believe you." Hawke scratched his chin. "It's just..."

"It's just that I shouldn't be hearing them. I know!"

"You're sane, Fenris. Amazing as it is after everything you've experienced, you're sane. I'm sure of that. So that means demons have found a way to contact you. Are you hearing them now?"

_"Fenriiiiiis."_

"No."

Hawke sighed. "What did I just say? Be honest with me. You can't do this on your own; we've just seen what happens when you try that."

Fenris' eyes dropped, once more trailing over Hawke's chest before they fixated on his own hands.

"I'll get you something to drink first," Hawke offered after a moment of silence. He got up from the bed to fetch a jug of water and an empty mug. After pouring some water in it, he handed the mug to Fenris.

Fenris tried to take a sip, but his hands were still shaking. He spilled water as he brought the mug to his mouth and choked on what little he got over his lips. Hawke took the mug from his hands while he coughed and stroked Fenris' back. Fenris could feel subtle sparks of Hawke's healing magic leave his hand, in search of something that could be healed.

"S... stop that," he croaked. "I'm neither ill nor injured. I don't need healing."

The flow of magic ceased. Hawke drew back his hand. When Fenris' breathing had become even again, he took the mug from Hawke and downed its content more successfully. He kept his gaze carefully focused on his hands.

A feminine laugh was the only sound that cut through the pressing silence, and he knew the laughter resounded only in his own head. He tightened his grip on the mug.

The shift in the mattress indicated that Hawke stood up again. The following moment a tunic and trousers were tossed into his arms. Fenris looked up.

Hawke was pulling up his own pants. Fenris was relieved when a shirt hid the mark of death on Hawke's torso. He exhaled slowly without realizing it.

Without a word he followed Hawke's example and started to get dressed, very aware of Hawke watching him while he did so. He dressed slowly, keeping his eyes on what his fingers were doing. Partly because he did not trust his limbs to obey him when he tried to move faster, and partly because he did not want to look at Hawke and continue their conversation. Eventually he had to admit he had fastened every belt and that no button was left loose. He sank back on the bed. When he looked at his hands again, he finally found the markings passive. No blue flashes anymore.

"Okay, let's try it differently." Hawke flopped down beside him. "How long have you been hearing them?"

"I don't know... no longer than a few weeks."

"How many are there? Can you identify different ones?"

A frown appeared in Fenris' forehead as he thought about this. "I... no, I can't. I know there's more than one. There are different voices... high, low, male, female, human, unwordly..."

"Any idea which types they are? What do they encourage in you?"

"Rage. I think Sloth too." Fenris drew a deep breath. "Pride." He bit his lip, turned his head further away. "D...desire." He wondered if Hawke could connect the dots, whether he realized which actions had been influenced by demons. He feared Hawke would link his mention of desire to their afternoon on the beach near Antiva City. If Hawke knew a demon had made Fenris fuck him like that... the whole event had been embarrassing enough already. He did not want this added to it. But Hawke was not stupid. He had known something was going on, just like Fenris had. He would see the connection.

But even if he did, Hawke made no mention of it. When Fenris risked a quick glance his way, he saw that Hawke was lost in thought. His face shielded whatever he was feeling or thinking. Fenris recognized the mask he himself often hid behind. He would hide now, but he was too tired, too wrecked to hide the despair he was feeling. He could not hide from what he had done.

After a while Hawke's eyes staring at a point somewhere behind Fenris turned more focused. He rubbed his chin and looked at Fenris. "We have some time before we have to go see the others," he said. "I guess we might as well use it. The sooner you learn to be aware of when a demon is trying to influence you, the better. I'm just... trying to think of the best way to do this."

"How do you live with this?"Fenris suddenly asked.

Hawke blinked, his hand paused under his chin in the middle of a scratching movement. "With what?"

"Those demons whispering to you every day. How can you stand to hear them every waking hour?"

The scratching began again. "You... uh... you get used to it," Hawke replied vaguely. Fenris wanted to say something else, but Hawke cut him off as soon as he opened his mouth. "Alright. We'll just get started. Close your eyes. Yes, don't look at me so incredulously, it's not that weird. You do it all the time at night. So, close your eyes... good. Relax. Let go of your thoughts, your worries. Release all of that, and find your center of peace. That place inside you where-"

Fenris opened his eyes. "Find my what?"

"Well, your... your core. That part inside you where you feel your power, some kind of life force. When I relax and focus, I can sense my magic inside me. Don't other people have that?"

Growling, Fenris rolled his eyes. "Bah, spare me your mage nonsense! Do you take me for one of your kind now that I hear a demon's call? I am still no mage!"

"Fine, fine. Just close your eyes again and try to relax."

"Do you even know what you're doing?"

"Oh, just work with me!" Hawke said, irritated. "The point is that you learn to separate your own thoughts and feelings from demons' play. The best way to learn that, is to get to know yourself."

"I already know myself."

Hawke's gaze was sharp. "Apparently not well enough."

Fenris glared at the mage before he inhaled sharply and closed his eyes again.

_This is ridiculous._

_"Very."_

He tried to follow Hawke's instructions, but he had no idea how to "let go" of everything. How could he after what had happened so recently? His mind was still a whirlwind spreading terror. The only thing that this achieved was making him sleepy. He would really like to lie down, so that he could drift away into blissful oblivion. Perhaps the demons would not be able to follow him there. He just wanted to be left alone. He wanted to forget all this had ever happened.

_"Sleep."_

His head sagged.

_No._

This was what they wanted. This was a demon toying with him again. He would not give in. He would resist. But he was so tired... How could a demon make him feel that way? Were they even able to influence what his body needed? Could they demand him to sleep or eat? How could he know whether he was actually tired or that it was a demon messing with him?

Fenris forced his eyes open. "I'm sorry," he said to Hawke. "I... can't focus right now. Perhaps we should meet the others."

Hawke looked not very enthusiastic about the postponement but he nodded his consent nevertheless. "I can imagine. We'll try again tomorrow. We shouldn't delay this, but it's not likely that much will progress will be made tonight." He sighed. "Okay, let's go. The others have probably already gathered anyway."

* * *

They made their way to Isabela's cabin in silence. When they arrived, they indeed found everybody waiting for them. Merrill, Varric, Aveline, Donnic and Isabela were standing in a circle. All eyes went to Hawke and Fenris when they entered. Fenris closed the door behind him, while Hawke immediately walked toward the middle of the small space and started pacing.

"Alright everybody," he began. "I think we all know our plans have changed. We can no longer continue to roam at sea. We have to find a solution for Fenris' problem first." Fenris tried to keep calm while everybody stared at him. He did not dare to meet anybody's gaze. "Problem" was an understatement, and they all knew it.

"The markings can be the only thing causing this," Hawke continued. "So we'll have to find people who know a lot about lyrium. Going to a Circle and ask for help there seems like a good place to start. A Circle in Ferelden would probably be best..."

Varric coughed discretely. "I... ah... think the Circle is not much of an option, Hawke."

Hawke made dismissive gesture. "I know they'll likely sense my magic. I thought one or two of you could accompany Fenris. It shouldn't take long, and I'll just wait-"

"No, I mean that _nobody_ gets into a Circle right now. They've all been sealed off."

Hawke stopped death in his tracks and turned to Varric. "Sealed off? What are you talking about?"

Varric appeared a bit nervous - an unusual state for the smooth-talking dwarf. "Apparently several rebellions have broken out. The templars have taken precautions."

"In Kirkwall, you mean."

"Not just in Kirkwall. After our little... uprising, the chaos has spread. The mages in other Circles have made their objections known and tried to overthrow the templars. In an attempt to keep the news from spreading further, all Circles are cut off from the rest of the world for the time being. Nobody is allowed in or out. The Chantry hopes the rest of the mages won't hear about the rebellions and remains submissive."

"Why," Hawke said in a low, dangerous voice, "wasn't I told? You went out to hear the news in Antiva, and when you got back you told me that the templars were still occupied in Kirkwall and that the Chantry had decided to focus on the mages there and leave us alone. You didn't say a word about the rebellion spreading to other cities!"

Varric had to put his head in his neck to look at Hawke, who was now towering above him. Despite the threatening sight, the dwarf did not appear to be intimidated.

"Why wasn't I told?" Hawke repeated, carefully pronouncing every word to accentuate his seriousness.

Varric's eyes went to the left. Hawke followed his gaze, then took a step toward Aveline. "Why?" he demanded once more.

"We... I thought it better not to worry you. It seemed not that important at the time."

"Not that important?! Fenris needs help!"

She remained calm, despite Hawke's obvious anger. "We didn't know that then."

Hawke grumbled and started pacing again. "Alright, no Circle. What else? Who else knows about lyrium besides mages?" He rubbed his face while he thought, his thumb on one cheek, the rest of his fingers on the other. "Dwarves mine it and... yes! That's it!" He jumped and quickly turned to Fenris. "Sandal called you an enchantment before we left, didn't he?"

Fenris made a face. "Sandal calls everything an enchantment."

"I don't recall him ever calling me an enchantment. And he really seemed fascinated by your markings... Who knows, perhaps he can help with getting them back under control!"

"I am not an enchantment."

Hawke's eyes went over the lines on Fenris' neck and arms. "We actually have no idea what your markings are and how they work. Maybe they do function like an enchantment. Either way it can't hurt to find Sandal and ask him." His face turned more somber. "Finding him will be the hard part. Bodahn will have left Kirkwall weeks ago. He said he wanted to go to Orlais. How do you find two dwarves in a country like that?"

Varric cleared his throat.

Hawke looked over his shoulder. Fenris saw the suspicion creep on his face. "Yes, Varric?"

"There might be something else that would make going to Orlais more difficult."

Slowly, Hawke turned around. "Do tell."

Varric glanced at Aveline. It did not escape Hawke's attention. "Varric." The warning was obvious.

Reluctantly the dwarf spoke. "Although it is true that the Chantry has shown no interest in pursuing us, there is a... bounty on your head. Apparently Starkhaven presses the Chantry to take action against you and put you to justice."

Hawke's shoulders slumped a bit. "Starkhaven? But..."

Varric nodded. "Yep. It appears Choir Boy is living up to his promise. According to the rumors he holds you responsible for what happened in Kirkwall. He uses his influence to convince the Chantry that you and Blondie are the leaders of the rebellions. The fact that disobedient mages cry out your name during their uprising supports that claim. As long as the Chantry doesn't take action, Starkhaven itself has placed a considerable bounty on your head and is hiring mercenaries. It won't be long until the Divine will budge and give in to the demands to punish the heretic that wants to bring down the Chantry and free all mages."

"What?! That's... that's preposterous. I never wanted to get involved in Anders' plan! He lied to me. And a heretic... Sebastian really is being dramatic."

Varric shrugged. "You did spare Blondie," he reminded Hawke. "And you've made no secret of not believing in the Maker."

"If Sebastian wanted to kill Anders, I would not have stopped him! It just was not fair to ask it of me. I still have my brother thanks to Anders. I owed him. Sebastian must understand that. And refusing to believe in that stuck-up higher being is hardly the same as wanting to bring down the Chantry!"

"We're not the ones you should be saying that to."

The atmosphere in the room felt like a thunderstorm was about to break loose. The air made Fenris' skin prickle.

Hawke stepped closer to Varric and Aveline. "Why did you decide to keep this from me?" he asked with a voice shaking from barely contained anger. He looked at Aveline when he spoke.

"She meant well, Hawke..." Isabela tried.

Eyes shooting ice spikes were directed at the pirate. "So you knew too," Hawke said softly. "I thought so."

"I thought you had been through enough," Aveline said. "This was my decision, Hawke. I convinced Varric and Isabela to stay quiet and not inform you about the unrest in Thedas."

The storm that had been looming over them was unleashed as Hawke lost his self-control. "You don't get to decide that!" he yelled in Aveline's face. "You have no say in what I can and can't handle. I've been through enough, indeed! I can handle this. Did I turn into the retarded member of the group while I wasn't looking?! I never asked any of you to follow me and obey my orders, but as long as you are here with me, I expect you to be honest. I have **never** lied to you. Never! I thought that I could trust you, but obviously I was wrong."

"You _can_ trust us." Judged by the look on Aveline's face, she had not anticipated Hawke would be this furious. "I..."

"No." Hawke turned away from her. "I don't want to hear it. I know enough." He took a few steps to the centre of the cabin, then turned on his heels. "Varric, any idea when the Chantry will follow Sebastian's example?"

"Difficult to say. Not long. My guess is within a month. Might take longer, though."

Hawke's hand went to his chin. "That is likely not enough time to find Sandal. Being in the country that is the seat of the Divine when the Chantry declares me an enemy would be extremely risky... It is just about me, right?"

"You and Blondie, as far as I heard. No word on any of us."

Hawke nodded, then sighed. "Alright. I'm afraid there is no other option." He took a deep breath. "We have to go to Tevinter."

Hawke's words were followed by a shocked silence. Fenris could hardly believe his ears. He would protest, but his mind could not grasp the foolishness of this idea. Memories of his life in Tevinter flooded him, leaving him numb with fear.

Aveline was the first to react. "Hawke, no."

Hawke wheeled around. "Not a word from you! Don't worry, you don't have to accompany me. If I go to the Tevinter Imperium, I only want people with me I can trust. It will be just me and Fenris."

"It's too dangerous."

"Perhaps. But it seems I have no choice. The White Divine has no authority in the Imperium and Sebastian certainly won't follow me there. Fenris' markings have been created by a magister. If there are answers to be found on how to stabilize them, it will be in Tevinter."

"You can't-"

"I can and I will!"

Finally Fenris found his voice. "I'm not going back," he said hoarsely.

Hawke gave him an impassive look. "I wasn't asking."

"Whether you ask me or not, I'm not going!" He grabbed the doorknob to get away from Hawke and his crazy plan, but Hawke did not let him go. When Fenris pulled at the door, it stayed firmly closed.

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere now! You were about to pluck my heart from my chest and it bloody hurt; you don't get to walk away from that. I don't want it to happen again, so we're going to fix this and therefore we're going to Tevinter."

With one hand still on the doorknob, Fenris turned back. "You just told me you could help me solve this with no mention of the Imperium!"

"I said I could help you understand when a demon is trying to influence you and to resist it. I can't make them go away. You didn't seem eager to hear them the rest of your life, so we need to do something about it. Besides, the demons are not the only problem, are they?"

Fenris leaned against the door. His knees had gone weak. Irrational panic pushed out all coherent thoughts. Only the knowledge that he would have to return to the place that had him live the life of a dog remained and beat down on him. He could think of nothing else. The panic screwed his throat shut. He was unable to answer Hawke.

Hawke came closer. "Your markings were active when we walked through Antiva City, but there was no reason for their activity. You hadn't even noticed it. They're becoming difficult to control, aren't they?"

Fenris swallowed. He felt the markings pulsating again, as if to prove Hawke's words. He could still not speak. Breathing alone was an accomplishment. He stared at Hawke with wide eyes.

"We will fix this, Fenris," Hawke said reassuringly.

"I don't want to go back," he whispered in a thin voice.

"Danarius is dead. You will still be free man. And you won't be alone. I will be with you."

"Oh, yes, a mage for company in the Imperium. Very reassuring," he sneered.

Nothing about Hawke betrayed his feelings on this remark. His face was still set in determination. Fenris' fear increased further. "I... I can't go back. Don't make me go back, Damian."

"It's our best chance to find help for your markings."

"Help? There is no aid to be found in Tevinter! Danarius is dead, and none of the magisters will have any interest in helping us. The only help we will find is in getting captured or killed."

"Feynriel is in Tevinter. I have saved his life twice. He will help."

"Feynriel." A burst of hysterical laughter escaped from his mouth. "The somniari! The first somniari that lived in hundreds of years and you have sent him to Tevinter, where they will have taught him how to gain as much power as possible with his abilities. _That_ is your plan? Ask what now is one of the most dangerous men in the world for help?"

"Feynriel owes me. He will help."

"Magisters only return favors when they benefit from it themselves or when they have no other choice!"

"I don't believe Feynriel is a magister yet."

Fenris wanted to grab Hawke by the shoulders and shake him, but such an aggressive act would probably not go over very well with the others. Aveline would execute him on the spot.

_"You let him dominate you?"_

_"He will put you on a leash."_

He squeezed his eyes shut. _I'm not listening._ He did not know what to do to change Hawke's mind. He had no better suggestions. He just did not want to go back. He _could _not go back. He knew his fear was not rational. He had killed his master and apprentice. Nobody could claim him. Nobody owned him. But returning to that place... it would mean facing so much. He had hoped to be free from magic and its hold on him, but once more it turned out his past continued to follow him. Stalking him, always waiting for a chance to drag him back.

He clung to the doorknob to stay upright. Tevinter. He knew no other word that could make him feel like this. Fenris opened his eyes to send a last pleading look Hawke's way, but Hawke had already turned his back to him.

"Merrill, any chance the Dalish know something that could help?"

"I don't think so," she replied. "I have never read anything about it in the old books of my people. Some spirits might know..."

"That won't be necessary," Hawke said friendly. "Just... is there a way for you to contact other clans for what they might know?"

She bit her lip. "I'm afraid I won't be very welcome."

"Okay, don't worry about it. I was only asking. Varric, do you think you might be able to find Bodahn and Sandal?"

The dwarf smiled. "I'm pretty sure I can do that, yes. Might take a while, though."

"I would appreciate it if you want to try it. Isabela, can you bring us to Minrathous?"

"I can."

"Good. Then set the course... or whatever you call it on a boat."

"Ship."

"Right."

Aveline came forward. "Hawke, you can't go alone to Tevinter. You need-"

"I don't need anything from you. I need people who are honest with me. After Isabela has brought Fenris and me to Minrathous, you are free to go wherever you want. Go to Orlais, or Ferelden. Build a life with your husband. I don't care. I just don't want to see you anymore."

"Hawke..."

Hawke did not wait for what else she had to say. He made his way for the door, making a gesture with his head to Fenris to indicate he had to follow him. Fenris' eagerness to get out of this room won it from the irritation that Hawke was ordering him to follow.

"Did you know it too?" Hawke asked once they had left Isabela's cabin.

"I did not." He had been too occupied with his own troubles to seek contact with anybody else during the past few days. He suspected they would not have involved him anyway. He would not have kept this from Hawke.

"Good."

The rest of the evening they did not speak to each other.


	7. Chapter 7

The days it took to reach Minrathous went by at a crawling pace. Fenris avoided everybody on board, and everybody on board avoided him. He recognized the looks they gave him when he passed. Stares filled with suspicion, poses full of caution. He had looked that way as well, at the abomination. He had never trusted Anders; whenever he had been forced to be in the same room as the abomination, Fenris had watched him closely, always prepared for the demon to surface. To be subjected to similar gazes pained him. He could not blame them; had it been someone else who was suddenly hearing demons, he would have treated them exactly the same. After what Anders had been driven to by a demon, everybody was more distrusting. But it hurt. Hawke was the one who had brought them all together, but during the years the group had lasted, Fenris thought he had managed to connect with a few members. Isabela, Varric and Aveline were perhaps no friends, but he trusted them, dared to rely on them. In Hawke's group he had felt accepted, for once not treated as a potential source of trouble, a monster with mysterious powers. They had fought for him against Danarius and his slavers, and he had fought for them. Apparently it was all of lesser value than he had believed.

Hawke again proved to be the only exception to the behavior of the rest. And Hawke was the one he did not want to talk to. The way he had decided they would go to Tevinter, without taking into consideration what it would do to Fenris, what it would mean to him... Fenris could not forgive that so easily. The problem was that he still could not come up with very valid reasons why they should not go to that cursed place - besides the obvious argument that no realm was more foul and despicable and rotten... and that no help was to be found in the land where people like Danarius were the ones to rule.

Because he knew he would lose any argument with Hawke on the subject, he made his discontentment clear by refusing to speak to him. After a couple of attempts to have a casual conversation, Hawke got the message and left Fenris alone. Instead he watched from a distance and followed him around the ship, never letting him out of his sight. Fenris was unsure whether this was because Hawke too believed he could lose his mind any moment now, or that Hawke was concerned he would hurt himself. Perhaps both. Either way, it quickly got on Fenris' nerves to be never alone, especially since he was trying to find some privacy. The relentless whispers were enough company already.

The demons had quieted somewhat after their open assault on his sanity. They went back to whispering a few words at most, not full sentences. He wondered if the rum had made him more susceptible to their vile intentions. Because he refused to ask Hawke if this could be the case, he had decided to refrain from drinking for the time being. This did nothing to improve his mood either.

* * *

In the late afternoon, two days after the "incident", Fenris was leaning against the rail of the ship and staring at the horizon, wishing the ship would sail into a different direction - did not matter which - when his ear caught Hawke's mumbled question.

"I don't hear them during the day. Do you?"

Inconspicuously Fenris turned his head a little to look over his shoulder. Hawke stood at a discrete distance with Merrill next to him. He probably thought he was too far away for Fenris to hear what he was saying, but he was wrong in that.

"No, not unless the... spirit is already in this world."

Hawke sighed audibly. "I was afraid of that. Father only talked about demons contacting you when sleeping. I don't think he ever heard them when awake, and I have never heard Bethany about it either." He hesitated. "Merrill, do you notice... can you sense it too?"

"Like a tear in the Veil you mean?"

"Yes."

"Sometimes," the elven mage agreed. "It's not very consistent. Oh, now it's getting stronger!"

"I think his markings are glowing."

Fenris looked down at himself to find some of the lines on his arms glowing softly. The markings were not fully active and he was not phasing, but irregular parts were shining blue. He squeezed the rail to force his body back into submission. His knuckles turned white, but after a few seconds the blue surrendered and disappeared.

Hawke spoke again, even more softly than before. Fenris could barely make out the words. "It's like he's a walking tear in the Veil."

"But how is that possible?"

"If I only knew... But Merrill, if it's really true, then... demons could be able to come through, couldn't they? They actually could posses him?"

Merrill's answer was almost as quiet as Hawke's. "Yes, I'm afraid so."

Hawke uttered a curse under his breath. "Oh no. I was afraid of that. We need to get this under control quickly. Who knows how long he'll hold out. We..."

Fenris noticed he was still squeezing the rail. He pushed himself back and walked away. The only satisfaction he got was that Hawke was now conflicted about whether he should follow Fenris or finish his conversation with Merrill.

The meditation sessions that had to increase his mental resistance were the only interaction with Hawke that Fenris allowed. Even then he exchanged as few words as possible, maintaining as much of his cold silence as possible. But when they were sitting in their shared cabin this evening, he could not keep quiet.

"You lied to me," he snapped at Hawke after having sat opposite of him for a few minutes with his eyes closed.

Hawke opened his eyes. "I did?" he asked, seemingly unimpressed. "Enlighten me."

""You get used to it," you said when I asked how you could stand hearing demons every day of your life. But apparently you don't hear them at all. You told me no demon would be able to cross the Veil and possess me, but that's not true either. I overheard you talking with the bloodmage today. You lied."

The calm air immediately left Hawke. His shoulders slumped and a hand went to his chin. "Listen, Fenris," he began. "I..."

"No, Hawke! For all your indignation about Aveline, Varric and Isabela keeping information from you, you certainly are quick to deceive me!"

"Okay, look, I'm sorry, but that's not the same."

Fenris folded his arms across his chest. "No, because now it's you, and you and your actions are infallible obviously."

Hawke's eyebrows lowered at that. "Oh, come on! That's not fair," he bit back.

"You claimed I could not possibly become an abomination!"

"Because I thought it would be impossible! It's supposed to be... I'm still not sure about it. I don't understand what's going on with you."

"Then why pretend that hearing demons in your mind is normal for a mage?"

"I never-" A growl from Fenris cut him off. "Okay, I did give that impression. But you asked me that not even an hour after you tried to rip your own heart out. I didn't dare to say anything that would further upset you. You were so... you seemed so desperate, so lost. I feared that if you believed yourself a threat again, I would not get a second chance to stop you from hurting yourself."

Fenris tried to hold onto his anger but felt it slipping away. He sensed that Hawke was being honest now, and despite his desire to counter that he "was not made of glass", he realized that that moment had been such an extreme low that it would only be an empty phrase. Besides, there was something about Hawke that made him pause. As soon as he had called Hawke out on his deception, Hawke had changed. There was something that drew his attention, something pressing, something alarming. When he saw Hawke's eyes dart away before they returned to Fenris' face, it hit him: Hawke was scared. His stomach clenched at the realization. Fear was not something he was used to seeing in the man that had helped him get through so many things. Hawke's calmness had helped Fenris regain some sense while his mind had been clouded by panic and the influence of demons. Despite all his concerns about his situation and Hawke's plan to go to Tevinter, Fenris had been somewhat hopeful that it would all be okay in the end. Hawke was convinced he could fix whatever was wrong with the markings, and that confidence had unwillingly rubbed off on Fenris. Now it turned out to be nothing but an act. Hawke did not know what to do, and he was scared. His confidence turned out to be the biggest lie. Fenris felt his own faith plummet. What good could going to Tevinter possibly do when neither he nor Hawke had any idea what they were after? They would just be two fools stumbling blindly to their doom. The meditation seemed useless as well. He never really understood what Hawke meant with his instructions and no matter how hard he tried to shield his mind off, the demons always got through.

_"No use resisting..."_

It took him a few seconds to realize that was not a thought of his own, but a demon's manipulation. Fenris shook his head and bit his tongue in frustration. It was no good. How could he fight what seemed to be his own thoughts? He had tried that for years already, and with no success. He did not even know how he was "resisting" as the demons suggested. Or how he should "give in", even if he wanted to.

He wanted to stand up and leave but Hawke stopped him by grabbing his hand. The unexpected touch made Fenris jump. As always his markings flared up when they made contact with Hawke, and now that Fenris was trying more than ever to keep the lyrium in check, the unwanted activity startled him. Hawke let go when he noticed Fenris' tendency to pull away. To Fenris' relief, his markings immediately stopped burning.

"We need to talk, Fenris," Hawke said. "If we're going to Tevinter, we must trust each other. We'll have nobody else to count on."

Fenris shook his head. "We have no idea what we have to do to solve it. It likely is not even possible to solve it. I am not going back to Tevinter when there's no reason to!"

"We may not know what to do yet, but that doesn't mean a solution doesn't exist. We will find a way. We just have to plan our actions carefully."

"Plan? What plan do we have, besides your idea to ask the somniari for help?"

Hawke looked up at Fenris, who was still standing. Hawke's face was calm again. The fear had disappeared from his eyes, pushed out by that cold, hard determination. "I need you to tell me as much about Tevinter as possible. There must be something we can use, some advantage we can get."

"I don't see how."

"At least sit down." Fenris thought of leaving anyway, but there was nowhere to run to. When Hawke had stopped him from killing himself, he had decided to fight. So fighting was what he had to do. With a sigh he sat back down, legs crossed. Hawke gave him a small smile. "Do you know if Danarius kept notes? From what I gather, you've been more or less an experiment. Would he have had notes about the ritual? The more we can find out about it, the better."

"I know of no notes. I only followed the orders of my master. What businesses he tended to was not my concern and beyond my understanding."

"But do you think it likely he has written down his knowledge?"

Fenris shrugged. "Possibly. I honestly cannot say for certain. His work was complete with me... he chose not to replicate his results or lacked the resources to do so. Either way I doubt he would risk one of his rivals getting hold of knowledge that could easily be used against him."

Hawke looked disappointed. "So... no notes?"

"If they exist, other magisters will have claimed ownership of them already. And they are not willing to share their secrets."

"Is the ritual that much of a secret then?"

"Warriors like myself are rare. Only the most powerful magister would attempt to... create one."

"Hmm." Hawke scratched one of his cheeks, thinking. "We have to go through Danarius' possessions, see if we can find clues about the nature of the ritual and the markings. Any way to accomplish that?"

Fenris stared at him, barely able to believe Hawke's simplistic take on the whole situation. "No," he said curtly. "They won't let a former slave and a Fereldan mage walk into Danarius' old mansion to take his most valuable information."

"Do you think I could purchase Danarius' mansion?"

Again Fenris stared at Hawke, before he burst out laughing. "Even you don't have enough gold for that, Damian! And even if you had sufficient coin, you would have no chance. Don't think the magisters will welcome you or even respect you because you happen to be a mage; plenty of mages are being suppressed by the few who hold all the power. You're a foreigner. The Tevinter magisters don't think highly of other nations. They only see them as potential resources, people to bleed dry for their own gain or as mere amusement. You'd be wrong to believe they would ever see you as an equal. They will never allow you to live in a house meant for one of their own."

Instead of looking disappointed, as Fenris would have expected, Hawke appeared more determined and not yet willing to let the subject go. "Feynriel said something about his master dueling with another magister and killing him. Do these duels always end with the death of one of the competitors, or can the winner demand something else from the loser?"

Fenris feared he was looking rather slow with all the bewildered stares he was giving Hawke this evening. This time his reaction was not caused by Hawke's lack of understanding of the Imperium. Rather, it was the other way around. The suggestion actually had some merit... apart from the fact that it required the defeat of a magister.

"Usually the duels are not to the death, no," he replied slowly. "It is more often done as a way to compete for resources, or improve reputation. Ambitious apprentices sometimes challenge their old master to prove they have become greater than the person that has educated them. It is also perceived as very entertaining by the other magisters and the common people." The disgust in his voice was apparent. "When one magister challenges another, they make a whole show of it."

"Can magisters be challenged by an outsider?"

"Declining a challenge is seen as a weak thing to do, so the magister usually accepts, even when the challenger is not one of the elite, though it rarely happens. No-one in their right mind would duel a magister when being anything less than an aspiring magister himself." Fenris frowned at Hawke. "That includes you, Damian. So I wouldn't hatch a new plan that hinges on this." He scanned Hawke's face. Did he detect overconfidence? Arrogance?

"If I have to, I will," Hawke said simply. "But maybe it won't be necessary. We have killed a magister already after all."

"That was not in a duel."

"Can't we claim that it was?"

Fenris shook his head. "Duels have to be approved by the senate. The archon himself has to acknowledge the outcome and the reward for the victorious has to be established beforehand."

"So us defeating Danarius won't give us an edge in any way?"

"Probably not. Most we can hope for is a pat on the back for getting rid of a rival for them."

Now there was some disappointment visible on Hawke's face. "Is there nothing we can use to our advantage? There's got to be something we can turn into our benefit."

Fenris thought on it for a moment. "There is one thing..." The spark of hope immediately returned to Hawke's eyes. "Your victory over the Arishok. Tevinter has been at war with the Qunari for years. Dead Qunari is one thing they like. Another pat on the back is likely the only thing you'll get for that as well, but it's worth pushing. Perhaps it will be enough to gain some respect..."

Hawke's smile was so bright it would make you think they had just come up with the miraculous solution for every problem they might encounter in Minrathous, instead of one tiny straw to grasp.

* * *

They were close to Minrathous now. The ship was sailing past the Tevinter shore already. A few more hours until they would reach their destination. Fenris paced across the ship, trying to calm himself and be at peace with the prospect of returning to the capital of the Tevinter Imperium. He kept repeating to himself that he had nothing to fear. He was free. Hawke would be there with him. He could trust Hawke.

_"Lies."_

_"Everybody lies"_

_"Except us."_

_"Let me in."_

_"Or me."_

_"No fear then."_

_"Everything you want."_

_Leave me alone!_

_"Have fun in Tevinter."_

_"We will too."_

A few more hours.

What were they getting into?

It had been decided that Merrill would accompany Varric in the search for Sandal. Isabela would keep the ship and pick up the life she had led years ago. Aveline and Donnic were thinking about going to Ferelden. As guards, or to serve the new Fereldan king.

During his pacing he passed them - Aveline and Donnic. They were standing next to each other near the rail. Fenris hesitated for a moment, then approached them.

Donnic took a step back when he saw Fenris, and Fenris' step faltered. _The single bond I managed without Hawke._ Gone. Destroyed. Donnic too saw him as a walking threat, unpredictable, no longer a person worth trusting. No longer a friend. Aveline did not follow her husband's example, but her attitude was clearly hostile.

"I... believe I owe you my gratitude," Fenris said when Aveline did not greet him.

"Your gratitude belongs to Hawke. Only his word kept me from killing you," she replied coldly.

Fenris nodded. "You are a better friend than I am," he said. "Had it been somebody else, I would have killed him, regardless of Hawke's wishes."

"Time will tell if I have done him a favor."

_Ouch._

_"Kill her."_

Not knowing what else to say, Fenris stared at his feet. _Perhaps it's time to go._

At his visible unrest, Aveline softened a bit. "I would not have listened to him if you had not been determined to end your own life after what happened," she said. "I know how much you care about Hawke. You've shown that. But demons..."

"I know."

She shrugged off more of her distrust. "How far will you let him go?"

Fenris looked up to her. "What?"

"You must know he'll do anything to save you."

"I don't need saving." A stern gaze from Aveline was as bad as one from Hawke. "Hawke knows the boundaries he shouldn't cross." Another stern look at the weak words. His protests against the idea to go to Tevinter rang clear in both their memories, the way those had been brushed aside more than obvious. "It won't come to that."

_Blind optimism? From me? _

_"More like denial."_


	8. Chapter 8

About two hours later Isabela came to find Fenris. He was surprised to see her instead of Hawke when he looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps.

"We're almost there," she said. "We'll arrive within the hour. You'd better get your stuff."

Fenris gave a nod to indicate he had heard her. He let his gaze wander over the calm Nocen Sea. He knew they could have arrived in Minrathous sooner. The shortest and fastest route was to simply sail past Seheron's coast, but Isabela wanted to keep as much distance between her and the island as possible. As soon as they had gone through the narrow Ventosus Straits she had steered the ship south, away from Seheron, instead of continuing west straight to Minrathous. He doubted the Qunari would have attacked them - they were obviously not a Tevinter ship and the Qunari had no way of knowing Isabela was the captain- but Fenris was not going to complain about anything that delayed their arrival.

"Are you okay, sweet thing?"

Fenris turned a bit towards her. He had expected her to walk away after her announcement, but she was still standing next to him. Asking him how he was doing. Before he could really consider confiding some of his concerns to her, his standard answer had rolled out of his mouth. "I'm fine."

Isabela let out one of her seductive chuckles. "Demons in your head, Tevinter as your destination, and still you're acting tough."

_I have no choice. I can't be anything but tough in the Imperium. I'd better be ready._

No confiding then. Cool and collected instead. "Was that a compliment?"

Isabela leaned against the rail; her bosom was pushed up by the movement, offering an even deeper look into her impressive cleavage. The wind casually played with her hair. "You could say that," she replied.

Silence fell. Fenris was unsure what Isabela wanted. He did not have anything to say, but she had come to him, so he assumed she was not done yet. He looked at the sea again while he waited.

He did not have to wait long. "So..." Isabela drawled. "What exactly is it you're going to do when you get there? Is there a plan yet?"

"I wouldn't call it a plan exactly," Fenris said wryly. "It boils down to bluffing and fighting our way through until we suddenly reach a miraculous solution."

Isabela laughed at that. "Sounds like a fine plan to me."

"Yes, it was working out so well when you caused a Qunari invasion in Kirkwall."

She nudged him with her elbow. "So quick to bring up the one time it went wrong. Even that one turned out just fine."

"Thanks to Hawke." _It seems she just want to make conversation._ Fenris relaxed a little more. It was pleasant to be able to chat with someone without his defenses up so high.

"Thanks to Hawke," Isabela acknowledged. "Our savior when plans go wrong. You have him on your side, so there's nothing to worry about!"

_Perhaps._ Hawke certainly had helped him more than Fenris could have ever dreamed. _But Hawke admitted he has no clue how to solve this._

Only one way to find out. Start bluffing and fighting. Until the solution was found, or they lost.

"He's still mad, isn't he?" Isabela asked.

"Yes, he is." Hawke had refused to go near to Isabela, Varric or Aveline and had not exchanged one word with any of them after he had discovered their secrecy.

Isabela nodded, her face somber.

"What are your plans?" Fenris asked her to divert her thoughts. "You finally have a ship again."

The question worked: a mischievous smile appeared on the pirate's face. "I think I'll stay in the neighborhood. There must be enough cargo to raid near Minrathous. Or to free..."

Fenris felt his mouth twitch, but he remained serious. "That got you into trouble with Castillon," he reminded her. "Are you certain you want to do it again? Tevinter will soon get sick of losing slaves and send forces to stop you."

The smile did not falter. "I wish them luck. I wouldn't have managed as long as I have if I was easy to catch."

Fenris could not bring himself to argue any further about freeing potential slaves. Any attempt to annoy the Imperium he would greet with much cheer. If Isabela could sabotage enough of the constant supply of free workforces, she would do more than annoy the magisters. Tevinter would crumble without its slaves. Perhaps, combined with a successful rebellion...

He realized his smile had turned into a grin. "You have my approval," he said to Isabela. "Although I thought that one time was just a ruse, not worthy of repeating?"

Isabela threw her head back and sighed dramatically. "I blame Hawke. And you, and lady man-hands. Sebastian. Even Varric."

"Me?" Fenris repeated with a raised eyebrow.

With another sigh, Isabela let her head roll forward again. "Yes, you. I think you've reminded me of what slavery really means. Everybody deserves to be free."

"Another compliment?"

"Compliment? I hate you for it!"

Now it was Fenris' turn to chuckle. "Just remember to stay alert."

She winked and met his grin with one of her own. Teeth flickered in the sunlight. "I don't fall asleep when I have to keep watch."

_"Kill her."_

_"Noooo."_

_"Take her."_

_"Claim her."_

_"Then kill her."_

The grin fell from Fenris' face. Isabela noticed his mood shift; he saw caution spark in her eyes. He took a step away from the rail and the pirate. "I... I'll go tell Hawke we're almost at our destination," he mumbled. "Excuse me."

With brisk steps he quickly put as much distance between himself and Isabela as possible. In one thing Hawke was right: they had no true alternatives to Tevinter. The demons would not stop. They continued to jump into his thoughts when he did not expect it. It was confusing, frustrating and frightening. Although he dreaded the thought of returning to Minrathous, he would be glad to get off this ship. In Tevinter he would at least be away from the people who had been his allies for over six years. Away from their distrust, away from the opportunity to hurt any of them.

In front of the door to Hawke's cabin Fenris paused to make sure his breathing was even. He did not want to let Hawke know that he was upset. He had to show he was strong enough. Strong enough for Minrathous. Strong enough to resist demons.

When he opened the door, Hawke was standing with his back to him, looking down at himself. He was dressed in the robes he had worn when they fled Kirkwall. The only mage clothing he had left. Fenris stopped at the sight. In the last weeks he had gotten used to seeing Hawke wearing pants. Now there was a mage standing in this room again.

At the sound of the door opening Hawke looked over his shoulder. He smiled at Fenris when he saw who had entered. Hawke's cheeks were covered with a dark red shadow of stubble. The redness of the sunburn had retreated, but now the skin of his forehead and nose was peeling. It was not much of an improvement.

"Hey."

Fenris cleared his throat. "Isabela said we're almost in Minrathous."

Hawke nodded. "I thought as much."

"Have you packed yet?"

As an answer Hawke gestured towards his bag, which appeared to have been stuffed full. He looked down at himself again, seemingly thinking. One hand went up, this time to scratch his nose. When he realized what he was doing, Hawke stopped. "By the Maker's wrinkled bottom! This itches even worse!" he muttered angrily. His scratching had worsened the condition of his nose even more.

"Is there a problem?" Fenris asked when Hawke turned his head as far as possible to look at his robes from over his shoulder.

"No..." Hawke replied slowly. "I'm just thinking to get changed again." He pulled the robes over his head and threw them next to his bag, from which he fished a pair of trousers and a tunic. "Better to accentuate the differences," he said while putting on his trousers.

"You're going to make a fashion statement in Tevinter?" Fenris said disbelieving.

Chuckling, Hawke tied the laces of the trousers. "Why not? We're going there to stir things up a little after all."

That was not really what Fenris had thought their goal would be, but if Hawke wanted to antagonize the magisters with his choice of clothing, he saw no reason to stop him. He preferred Isabela's way of antagonizing, but they were supposed to get information from the magisters. If they succeeded in finding a cure for his unstable markings, they could join Isabela in her raidings. That idea appealed to Fenris.

"Do you need to gather your things?" Hawke asked him.

Fenris spread his hands. "I have no more possessions than when I left Kirkwall." His sword was already strapped on his back. Since the whispers had revealed their true nature, he was always carrying it with him again. He was wearing his full armor as well. Steel could do little against the demons hiding in his head, but it provided a small illusion of defense nonetheless. Hawke nodded before he started to pull the tunic over his head. Fenris' eyes followed Hawke's movements, the subtle shifting of muscle underneath light skin. Despite Hawke being not nearly as muscular as a human warrior of the same height and build, his body hinted at a healthy strength. Fenris was stronger. If he chose to do so, he could easily bring Hawke off balance and pin him down, tear his clothes away to lick and bite and devour...

He shook his head, closing his eyes. _Stop. This has to stop!_

_"You know you want it."_

He saw that Hawke was fully clothed when he opened his eyes again. Hawke now grabbed his staff and stuffed his robes in the bag before he hoisted it over his shoulder. He glanced around the small cabin to make sure he had not forgotten anything before he took a step toward Fenris and reached out a hand to brush his cheek. Fenris stepped aside to evade Hawke's hand, quickly turning to leave the cabin. Hawke's arm fell uselessly back to his side. Fenris could not let Hawke touch him while he was having these thoughts. It felt wrong to allow it, and he was afraid he would not be able to control himself when Hawke unknowingly encouraged the thoughts demons were putting inside his head. Hawke was the last person near whom he could let his guard down right now. _And that while he is the only person I can rely on._

A voice from upstairs gave Fenris an excuse for his quick departure. "Destination in sight! Prepare to dock!"

* * *

_Minrathous_. Fenris watched in silence, with Hawke next to him, how their ship slowly entered the harbor of the capital of the Tevinter Imperium. He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry. Before him the city rose up, just as proud as more than a decade ago. Sounds familiar for the docks resounded around him: the screams of seagulls, the shouting, whistling, cursing, and singing of sailors, the negotiating of merchants, the noise of crates and other goods being moved around, the soft whimpering of newly captured slaves. It was like he had never left.

Fenris' heart hammered against his rib case. Underneath his armor he could feel the markings itch and pulsate. He glanced at Hawke, hoping to get some reassurance from the man next to him, but Hawke paid no attention to Fenris. He was too busy taking in the new environment with wide eyes. Fenris bit back his annoyance at the barely contained fascination that radiated from Hawke. Despite everything he had told Hawke about Tevinter, despite everything that the mage _knew_ of this place, he still looked like an eager tourist. Admittedly, Minrathous was an impressive sight for someone who visited the city for the first time, but for Fenris every admiration he could have for the high, thick walls that defended the city and the contrasting delicacy of the architecture of the buildings within those walls was crushed by what it all represented: the power of the magisters, gained by the use of magic without scruples. For every brick, every stone had been paid with the blood of innocent people, over the broken backs of slaves. The beauty of all the pillars, domes and towers was a lie. Hawke was no oblivious tourist; he should know this.

Isabela's crew knew what they were doing, so soon the ship had docked and the gangway had been placed. The path to Minrathous was clear. Hawke glanced over his shoulder at Varric, Isabela, Aveline and Merrill and gave a short nod in their general direction. Then, without further ado he stepped on the gangway and quickly walked to the shore. Not one word, not one look back.

Fenris inhaled sharply through his nose. _This is it._ Time to get off Isabela's ship. He tried to turn away from the rail but discovered that his fingers refused to let go. They were clutching the wood so tightly that the edges of his gauntlets made scratches on the surface. The aura coming from the city made his markings itch.

_I can do this._ Another deep breath, and then he was able to release the rail and turn around. Because he had no idea what he could possibly say at a moment like this -as with so many other moments-, he followed Hawke's example and only nodded nervously towards Varric, Isabela, Aveline and Merrill. Hawke's lack of a decent goodbye had further increased the tension, so that it was almost as tangible as Minrathous' magical aura.

A few steps and he was on the gangway. Without spreading out his arms for extra balance Fenris made his way to the quay, combating the feeling that he was following his master. Soon he felt the warm stones underneath his bare feet, and he was swallowed up in the crowd. It took him a few seconds before he found Hawke's figure amidst the chaos of moving bodies. Sailors brought the catch of today to the warehouses so that it could be sold on the market tomorrow. The disgusting smell of freshly caught fish surrounded Fenris. _I really do hate fish._

With large steps he caught up with Hawke, who barely seemed to have waited for him and had already wandered away from the edge of quay, turning his head from one side to the other to see as much of his surroundings as possible. He only noticed Fenris when he appeared next to him and immediately began to walk faster.

"I sense a lot of disapproval coming my way," Hawke remarked while he carefully evaded a very broad sailor carrying a very large chest.

Fenris had to bypass the sailor from the other side before he could walk next to Hawke again. "Are you in a hurry?" he asked instead of immediately reacting to Hawke's words.

"It's late afternoon and I was hoping to speak to Feynriel today, so, yes."

"You know where he lives?"

"I don't. But I guess he'll be in the Circle during the day." Hawke halted and stood on his toes to look over the heads of the people around him. Because Minrathous had been built on a slope, they could see quite a big part of the city before them. "I assume that-," Hawke pointed straight ahead, "is the Chantry?"

Fenris did not really need to look to where Hawke had pointed to answer. "No," he said curtly. "_That_'s the Circle of Minrathous. The Chantry is over there." He gestured vaguely to the left.

"Ooh." Hawke stared at the large building that rested in the centre of the city. Its dome was glittering gold in the afternoon sun. "Shiny." He shot a look at Fenris. "Still sensing lots of disapproval. It's radiating from you."

Fenris shook his head and started walking again. _Straight to the building with all the magisters in it. Wonderful._ "Didn't you want to say goodbye?" he eventually asked.

Hawke's brow knitted. "No. I'm done with it. With them."

"I thought they were your friends."

"I thought so too. That makes both of us wrong."

Fenris thought about Aveline and Isabela, both looking sad and guilty after they had lost Hawke's trust and friendship. They could have known how Hawke would react to their secrecy. Fenris understood Hawke's anger at others deciding what he should and should not know. People had no right to determine whether you were too fragile to handle what life threw at you. But this group had stood by Hawke's side for more than six years. That Hawke was mad was his right, but Fenris did not really recognize Hawke in the vehemence of his reaction. He decided to drop the subject.

They continued their way. Fenris noticed that he was scanning the people they passed, alert for any sign that could mean a threat. _Because I know that this place isn't safe, or because I'm a bodyguard again?_ Hawke was continuously looking around as well, but he did not appear to be searching for potential dangers. His eyes drifted over the buildings and people around them. Having left the activity of the docks behind, they now entered a part of the city that was still very crowded, but not with people working and hastily getting from one place to the other. Instead, men and women of all ages were sitting on the side of the street, against the buildings. Most wore clothing in faded colors, with frayed edges. All had arms and legs so thin that they were no more than bones with a layer of skin over them. Dark eyes, lying deep in their sockets, followed every step of the people that walked by in the street. Many stretched out a begging hand and whispered pleas for food and coin.

"I thought Tevinter was a rich country," Hawke said softly as he stared at three young children with smudged, hollow faces.

"The magisters are rich. That means little for the rest of the population."

"But how can there be so many homeless here? This looks like Kirkwall during the blight."

"Most are refugees as well. Not from the blight, but the war with the Qunari. As long as Tevinter refuses to give up Seheron, the Qunari will strike back. Many villages near the coast have been destroyed. Survivors and people who fear that their huts will suffer the same fate flee to Minrathous with its high walls."

"But why-" Hawke was interrupted by a man who suddenly appeared next to him and grabbed his right arm.

"Coin? Do you have some coins for me?" the stranger pleaded while he dug his fingers into Hawke's sleeve. "Please, messere. My children..." He fell silent when his eyes went over the staff on Hawke's back. The mouth of the man remained agape for a few seconds, then he managed to close it, only for it to fall open again. "F...forgive me, messere!" he finally stammered. He released Hawke's arm so fast that you would think it had burned him. The beggar seemed conflicted between smoothening the fabric of Hawke's sleeve and running away. "Your... your clothes... I... I didn't realize... Please, forgive me!" Only then did he see Fenris standing at Hawke's other side. Underneath the dirt, his skin paled. Once more his mouth fell open, this time in a silent shout. Apparently rid of his doubt, the beggar turned around and ran away as fast as his thin legs could carry him. He bumped into people and pushed them aside in his escape. Angry shouts were tossed after him, but the man ignored it. Within seconds he had disappeared, leaving a dumbstruck Hawke behind.

Hawke cleared his throat and looked at Fenris. "Well... _that_'s something that has never happened to me before."

_I can't say the same._ "It seems your fashion statement is confusing the wrong people."

Hawke made a noise that was something between a huff and a snort. They continued on their way to the Circle. Hawke appeared a bit miffed about frightening a beggar without actually doing or saying anything, so they walked in silence for some time. Fenris tried to forget about the incident, but the pure fear that the beggar had displayed when he had seen Fenris was difficult to brush aside. In Kirkwall he had been avoided and not very subtly ignored by plenty of people, yet nobody had panicked and fled as soon as he laid eyes on him. Did people still remember him after a decade of absence? Was it his reputation as Danarius' bodyguard that had upset that man so? Or just the markings that made him look so strange?

* * *

They had not gotten much farther when a high, inhuman shriek cut through the warm autumn air. Both Hawke and Fenris instinctively reached for their weapon. Fenris was still trying to determine where the sound had come from, when a surge of dark, entropic energy was fired his way. Before Fenris could jump aside, Hawke had already raised a protective shield around him that absorbed the hostile magic without trouble. The source of said magic announced itself with another shriek that raised the hairs on the back of everybody's neck. A figure that vaguely represented the human it had once been came running from a nearby alley. Richly decorated fabric was wrapped around the hips but torn by the shoulders that were twice as broad as those of a regular human. Facial features were hidden and deformed by dozens of tumors of varying size. Only the eyes were still recognizable as human, although something else was now looking through them.

"Abomination!" Hawke yelled, raising his staff.

_My markings are getting unstable. I'm not going blind._

The abomination screamed again and launched itself forward to attack. With his sword in his hands, Fenris evaded the creature and gave a kick against its behind to make it lose balance. Due to its speed the abomination flew forward, where it collided with a wall of solid ice spikes conjured up by Hawke. The pained scream the monster let out as its own weight pinned it on one of the sharp points was far less threatening than its earlier noise. Fenris raised his sword while the abomination helplessly flailed its arms and legs to free itself. It did not get much time: with one forceful sweep Fenris cut off the creature's head. The arms and legs twitched for a few more seconds as the demon controlling them fought to contain its hold on the body. However, even demons could not fight the inevitable, and more than those few seconds could it not manage to stay in this world now that its host was dead. The last movements had ceased before Fenris put down his sword. That single burst of action had left him exhausted.

Hawke appeared next to him, staring at the dead abomination with a bewildered expression on his face.

"Don't look so surprised," Fenris growled. "Did you honestly expect a different kind of welcome in Tevinter?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Note of the author: my apologies for the longer delay between updates. Because this story takes place after the events in DA2, I have nothing to fall back on and that makes writing a little more difficult. My brain now has to do ALL the work. ;) I also had exams this week and the week before, so that's another reason for the slower updating time for this chapter. And, well, this chapter is pretty huge. I thought it would be finished last weekend, but it kept on going. Anyway, I hope it doesn't get too annoying to have to wait longer for an update on this. I will definitely continue with this story, so please bear with me!**

* * *

The rest of the walk to the Circle was - fortunately - less eventful. They encountered no further trouble along the way. Hawke wiped the sweat from his brow once they reached the top of the hill upon which the Circle had been built. From up here it was clear that the building formed the center of Minrathous; the hill offered an impressing view of most of the city. Fenris gazed in the direction of the sea, still wishing he could be anywhere but here, before he turned back to face the entrance of the Circle. Two guards were stationed next to the giant gilded doors, which were high enough to allow an ogre to enter without the need to duck. The guards themselves looked small next to the massive doors. Still, they seemed to think they looked impressive, dressed in their light plate cuirasses that appeared to have been made of gold as well and glistened in the lazy afternoon sun. The armor was purely decorative, Fenris knew: both men were mages. Instead of trousers the guards wore robes of expensive fabric in dark purple. Ironically, it reminded him of the templar uniform.

"How do we get in?" Hawke asked, his eyes on the two guards.

"We try your plan."

Hawke looked confused. "Plan? What plan? Freeze their toes and cook their brains?"

"No," Fenris said, suppressing a sigh. "Bluff our way in. Tell them you have an appointment with Feynriel."

"You think it'll be that easy?"

Fenris shrugged. "Those guards are mostly for show, and to keep the commoners out. The magisters think they have little to fear from others outside of their golden doors. Besides, this is not like the Circles in the rest of Thedas. At the end of the day all mages are allowed to return to their private mansions. That means it's easier to get in and out. Entrance isn't exactly forbidden."

Hawke inhaled slowly. For the first time Fenris thought he could detect a bit of nervousness. "Very well. Let's try it. And hope that Feynriel is actually inside."

After a confirmative nod from Fenris, Hawke strode to the giant, carved doors. He stopped right in front of them, looking like he expected them to open for him immediately and huffing in annoyance when they remained shut. Fenris stayed one step behind Hawke, on his right.

"Yes?" The right guard asked in a bored voice after they had stood there like that for almost a minute.

"I want you to open those doors for me."

Both Tevinters glanced at Hawke's clothing and smirked. "No commoners allowed," the left guard said, sounding equally bored.

"I am here to see an old friend of mine. Feynriel."

Now the guards paid a little more attention, albeit because they believed to detect an amusingly bad lie. "Is that so?" the left guard asked mockingly. "And what's your name?"

Hawke straightened his back to his full height, which was already greater than that of the average Fereldan and left the Tevinter guards in his shadow. "Feynriel and all the others will hear of this, serahs," he said threateningly. "You are certainly not contributing to a good first impression of the Tevinter Imperium. But if you insist: my name is Hawke, Champion of the city of Kirkwall in the Free Marches for defeating the Arishok in single combat." Hawke waved his arms around to accentuate every word. "Remember it well, because I'm certain you will hear it again from now on! My companion Fenris," Hawke stretched out an arm towards Fenris, "should already be known to you as the best warrior Tevinter has ever seen. So I hope you now both understand that neither of us are commoners, and if you know what's good for you, you stop scratching your butt and let us in. I have an urgent meeting with Feynriel and you are delaying me."

Fenris bit his tongue to control himself. He was not sure whether he should laugh at Hawke's theatrics or shake him because he had taken it too far and turned it into a joke. Shaking him was the most tempting... _I have gone to one of the most dangerous places in the world with a comedian at my side._

The guards exchanged a brief look. They seemed to have lost most of their arrogance. Then, much to Fenris' surprise, the Tevinters took a step aside and faced the doors. Simultaneously they stretched out a hand and made a quick gesture. The doors swung open to the inside without making any sound. Their faces blank, the guards took in their old position on their respective side of the door.

"You may enter," the guard on the right said, in a tone that could not be any more polite and professional.

Hawke gave no sign that he had ever doubted the guards' decision. Head held high, back straight, he marched inside. Fenris followed him, his head held less high, his back less straight. He felt as if the weight of all the magic in this cursed city was bearing down on him. The weariness he had been feeling since the short fight with the abomination had failed to decrease with the walk up the hill.

When he went through the Circle's entrance, his markings immediately sparked up. The place was filled with powerful magic, from the gilded, engraved doors to the high ceiling. The aura's were not only caused by the mages that were present and the magical artifacts that were undoubtedly kept here. The building itself was emanating magic, with enchantments that were far more complicated than anything that Sandal would ever have put on a sword or piece of armor engraved in the stones. If history was to be believed, this building predated the first blight. The combination of dwarven architecture and the power of generations of magisters had resulted in something indestructible. There was no doubt this was truly the domain of mages. Hawke's magical aura, which tended to overshadow other magical presences in a room, was reduced to a candle's flame in a raging fire. Fenris could sense a ripple of excitement going through the demons that were catching glimpses of the mortal plane through his eyes.

After they had taken three steps inside, the doors closed behind them as silently as they had opened. Hawke shot an unnerved look over his shoulder.

"They will let us out again once we're done, won't they?"

"We can only hope." _They wouldn't have let me out._

"Oh, very reassuring," Hawke muttered. "Never thought I would voluntarily walk into a Circle."

_About time you have to set foot somewhere you don't want to._

"You thought it wouldn't work, did you?" Hawke apparently decided to push his concerns aside for the time being and sounded rather smug. "You thought they would kick us down the hill. I could hear your teeth gnashing."

"You did move beyond what an ordinary man would consider to be bluffing."

"Nonsense. We're inside, aren't we? Now we only have to find Feynriel. Any idea where we should start looking?"

"If he is an apprentice the library would be my first guess." Danarius had rarely visited the library of the Circle; he mostly relied upon his private book collection when he needed to research something, but Hadriana had often studied there with other young mages.

"Lead the way."

Ten years of absence had not changed Fenris' good memory of the floor plan of the Circle. While serving Danarius it had been essential for him to know how to get from one room to the next as fast as possible. If Danarius or Hadriana suspected that he was being slow, they had been quick to make their displeasure known. Fenris also recalled the time he had had to chase a slave who had attempted to assassinate his master. He had caught the man by accurately guessing where he would flee, taking a faster route and cutting him off. Needless to say the failed assassin had not left the building alive.

The vast halls were mostly empty, something which Fenris was grateful for. Whenever he saw somebody wearing robes ahead, he expected it would be his sister. Would she study here, practice her magic? Or had her chance of becoming a magister died with Danarius? Had she even returned to Minrathous at all? To Tevinter? What would he do if he suddenly stood face to face with Varania?

_"Kill her."_

_"Like you should have done."_

_"When you had the chance."_

_No._ He had not come here to kill anybody. The only reason he was here was because of his markings. He had made his decision when he let her go. No reason to back down on his word. He had had the strength to walk away from it once - with Hawke's help - and he would do so again if need be.

_But hopefully it won't come to that._

They got to the library - or rather, the most commonly used library out of the many rooms filled with books the Circle contained - without running into Varania or any magisters. Hawke's face brightened at the sight of so many knowledge written down and placed on shelves, but he was careful not to say anything to betray his enthusiasm. The library was not empty like the hallways had been. Although the majority of people studying here had already left, there were still several apprentices and some enchanters sitting at the large tables. Dark eyes looked up from the pages they had been reading and followed Fenris and Hawke as they walked past the shelves searching for Feynriel.

They found him alone at the table farthest away from the central tables, bent over a thick tome with pages that had been colored yellow by the passage of years. Hawke gave Fenris a relieved smile before he quickly approached the young mage, who did not look up until Hawke spoke. "Hello, Feynriel."

Feynriel's head whipped up and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw Hawke standing in front of him. "Hawke! I... what a surprise. I had no idea you would visit me!"

"I'm afraid I haven't had the time to write you a letter to alert you, Feynriel. We have come as fast as we could." Hawke cut right to the chase. "We need your help."

"Of course," Feynriel said while he looked like he was still trying to process Hawke's unexpected appearance. "You have saved my life twice. I owe you more than I could ever repay." Fenris wondered briefly whether Hawke would be keeping track of all the people that owed him something. He must have an impressive list by now. Feynriel closed the tome he had been reading. "What can I do for you?"

"You remember Fenris?" Fenris took two hesitant steps forward, so that he was standing next to Hawke. Unease marked Feynriel's features for a short moment before he had himself under control again and forced a polite smile on his face that looked almost genuine. When Hawke had tried to negotiate with the slavers to free Feynriel, Fenris had forced them to attack, ignoring the threat of the leader of the group to cut Feynriel's throat. Obviously Feynriel had not forgotten that. His voice did not betray the holding of a grudge, though. "Of course I remember. I owe him my life too."

Fenris' attempt to return a small smile turned into a grimace when Hawke gave him a push to make him stand closer to Feynriel. "Fenris is the reason we're here," Hawke said softly, although Fenris had no doubt that all the mages in the room would succeed in hearing what they were saying nevertheless. "He used to be a slave of a magister here. That magister conducted some kind of ritual to create these." Hawke's finger brushed one of the thicker lines on Fenris' arm. "They grand special abilities, but I fear they have become unstable. You can probably sense that he forms some kind of tear in the Veil. He can hear demons call to him; they try to influence his actions. Neither of us has any idea how to control this or what the ritual involved besides lyrium. Because a Tevinter magister has done this, we-" Fenris glared at Hawke, "... okay, _I_ thought this would be the place we could find answers."

Feynriel leaned back in his chair. He breathed in, puffing up his cheeks, and blew the air out again before he spoke. "Wow." He shook his head. "You really did not come here with an easy task to help with."

"I know that warriors like him are rare," Hawke started, "But surely someone-"

"Rare?" Feynriel interrupted. He pushed himself forward, though he remained seated. "As far as I know, he is the only one."

"But..." Hawke looked at Fenris. "You said it yourself that warriors like yourself are rare. You never told me you were the only one!"

"I have seen two or three others like me, though that was long ago. How should I know what has happened to them in the meantime?"

Hawke rubbed his face. "Alright, never mind." He turned back to Feynriel. "Do you know what to do about this?"

Through narrowed eyes, Feynriel quietly studied Fenris for a while. "I have learned a great deal about the Veil here," he finally said, "but I don't think the ways to mend tears in the Veil that I have been taught will work here. I also have never seen the other ones you speak of or even heard of them. Perhaps my master, Claudius, will know. I will ask him when I meet him."

"I'd prefer it if we could pay him a visit right now," Hawke said calmly. "Is he here?"

"Uhm... yes, he is in his office. But I think it's better if..."

"Take us to him."

Feynriel stared up at Hawke, contemplating whether he should give him his way. He was clearly torn between obedience to his master and doing something to repay the immense favor he owed Hawke. Hawke did not allow Feynriel's sense of obedience to get the upper hand. "Take. Us. To. Him." He repeated the words slowly, pronouncing them very carefully. It was unwise to resist Hawke when he had ice in his eyes, and the threat in those few carefully spoken words could not be missed. This was an order, not a request.

Feynriel barely lasted a second under the weight of Hawke's gaze. He dropped his eyes and mumbled an agreement. He got up, gesturing to Hawke and Fenris to follow him. Hawke only gave a nod in return. Feynriel's hesitance had apparently made Hawke lose what little patience he had had.

Murmurs rose up behind them as soon as they left the library. The apprentices could not withhold their eagerness to discuss the appearance of the two mysterious strangers long enough to wait for them to be out of earshot. Fenris thought he heard "Danarius", "unique" and "lyrium" a few times before they were marching through the hall again to magister Claudius' office.

None of them spoke while they walked. The tension between them had risen sharply with Hawke's unspoken threat. Fenris did not care much if Feynriel's feelings were hurt by the cold behavior of his hero. He used what little energy he had left to try to ignore the demons that continued to plague his mind. The whispers were an ongoing nuisance nibbling at his defenses.

After five minutes Feynriel stopped in front of a broad door made of an exotic type of wood. Various kinds of flowers and animals were carved in its surface, with much attention paid to detail. The birds had feathers, the fish had scales, mammals had hair. The result was almost lifelike, even with the lack of paint. Feynriel did not pause to admire the craftwork, though he did hesitate before he knocked. At an affirmative noise from the other side of the door, Feynriel pushed the door open and entered cautiously. Hawke immediately went in after him.

"Master Claudius," Feynriel said with a voice he could not keep all the nervousness out of. "I am sorry to disturb you, but some friends of me who need your help have just arrived..."

The magister did not look op from his desk. He mumbled something dismissive in Arcanum at his parchment and waved Feynriel away.

"Common tongue, please," Hawke said so loudly that Feynriel nearly jumped and looked at him in shock.

It did have the desired effect: magister Claudius slowly raised his head and sat upright. Only when he had carefully placed the tips of his fingers against each other, he spoke. "Ah, messere Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall. What a surprise to suddenly have you in my office."

Hawke, who had already been prepared to repeat the show he had given in front of the two guards, was left at a loss for words. That the magister was aware of who he was and did not show the slightest bit of surprise brought him off balance. Claudius took Hawke's appearance in, in a way that was a perfect mix of disinterest and disdain, while Hawke was trying to decide what to say.

Hawke's recovery was not very impressive. "You... you know who I am?"

"Of course I do. I consider it part of my duty to stay informed of events that take place beyond the borders of this realm. As you probably know, we are no friends of the Qunari, so," magister Claudius bared two rows of straight, white teeth in a smile, "when an outsider manages to kill the military leader of those blasted ox men, I take notice. The whole magislation had a good laugh about it."

The possibility that Tevinter had somehow profited from his heroic attempt at suicide had apparently not really been considered by Hawke either. A little frown creased his brow while he let the magister's words sink in. Fenris had to admit that he too was taken by surprise that the magister immediately knew who Hawke was, but not as much as Hawke. Magisters maintained their power by playing vicious political games. Being one step behind an opponent could mean your end here. Fenris now cursed their blind optimism. This man would not be deceived by bluff.

"Did it help with your war?" Hawke inquired innocently.

Claudius' smile disappeared abruptly. With his dark eyebrows lowered, he said: "Not really. For a while the ox men seemed at a disadvantage with their Arishok in Kirkwall, but the beasts are disciplined, and the Arishok's successor was quickly used to his new role." The last word was spat out in disgust. "So far we remain at an impasse. But I have no doubt we will eventually drive them back into the sea." Hawke nodded halfheartedly. "But I assume you are not here three years after your heroics to discuss the Qunari with me..."

"No," Hawke pulled his shoulders back. "No, I'm not. Like Feynriel said, I need your help." Hawke stepped aside to make room for Fenris, who had not passed the doorway yet.

Now that Fenris could get a clear view of the magister, he recognized him. More lines marked his face and his black hair had streaks of grey in it, but the overall sharp features had remained the same. Before Fenris' escape, Claudius had been one of the newer magisters. His star was rising a decade ago, and apparently it had risen high.

The air of disinterest fell from Claudius when he saw Fenris. Greed sparked up in his eyes as he got up from his chair and leaned over his desk. "Is that... Danarius' slave?"

Fenris wanted to show that arrogant prick he was nobody's slave anymore, but Hawke, sensing the threat of Fenris' eruption, was faster and held and arm before Fenris' chest to stop him. "Fenris is a free man," he said quickly. "Danarius made the mistake of trying to claim him as his property, and he paid for it with his life. Fenris has deserved his freedom. He is here as his own person, as my equal. I expect him to be addressed as such."

Claudius' expression became perfectly cold and unaffected again. "Of course." He sat back down and assumed his old position. "And what is it that you two need of me?"

With two large steps Hawke had reached the other side of the desk. "The markings are becoming unstable. I need to know what to do about that."

"Do they? How interesting." The magister's fingers tapped against each other while he thought about it. "Then again, it's not surprising."

"It's not?" Hawke asked eagerly. "So you know what can be done?"

"It's not," Claudius repeated dryly. "But I do not know what can solve the issue."

"What do you mean by that?"

"What I _mean_, is that it is only logical that the markings are becoming unstable now that Danarius is no longer alive to maintain them."

Fenris staggered, nearly fell against Feynriel. Of course. How could he ever have expected anything else? How could he have believed it would end with Danarius' death? As it turned out, Danarius' death only meant his own end. His mouth twisted from the bitter irony of it all. He wondered if Danarius had known. He had never made a mention of it, not even in his last battle in an attempt to save his life. Perhaps Danarius had realized it would have made no difference. Fenris would rather be dead than continue to live as a slave, even if he would be a healthy slave. Still, the cruelty of fate caused bile to coat his tongue. The demons made no secret of their amusement.

His sister's accusing voice echoed inside his head. _"You wanted it. You competed for it."_

Hawke appeared to struggle with this revelation as well. His voice wavered when he tried to speak. "It must be possible to maintain them again. I could do it. Or undo the whole ritual. Just tell me how."

The answer was like a stone dropping on the least glimmer of hope they had. "As far as I am aware, there is no way. None of us have been successful at reproducing Danarius' remarkable results."

_"You said you didn't ask for this, but that's not true."_

"But... Fenris has seen warriors with markings like him!"

"They all died shortly after their ritual. The lyrium killed them within a few days, and that was the best we could do."

_"You wanted it."_

"In that case I want to take a look inside Danarius' mansion. Search for information about the ritual. He must have kept notes..."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible. Danarius' mansion is now the property of magister Gaius. I might add that we have found no documentation concerning the ritual among Danarius' belongings."

Fenris could tell by the tension in Hawke's back that he could barely control himself. "Feynriel wrote in a letter to me that you have killed another magister in a duel. According to Fenris the victor can claim possessions of the loser. We have defeated Danarius. Your own rules say that his belongings are now ours."

Claudius folded his arms across his chest. "Do not offend us by pretending to know our ways," he snapped irritated. "That was no official duel approved and supervised by the Archon. You can barely claim the rings on Danarius' dead fingers."

Hawke bent over, placing his hands on the large desk without paying attention to the sheets of parchment lying there. He leaned over far enough to be nose to nose with the magister. "Then I will duel magister Gaius," he hissed. "And you. I will duel every one of you if need be. I have beaten Danarius, and I will defeat and kill you all if that will give me the answers I seek!"

Magister Claudius snorted, completely unimpressed. "Barbarians! Perhaps this is a normal way to handle things in your country, but here we are civilized people. Don't think you can intimidate me. Have you ever wondered why Danarius did not know you are a mage, Champion? Ever considered why you could take him by surprise? Why he did not squash you like the bugs you are?" When Hawke did not answer, Claudius flashed his teeth again. "It is because I paid his informants not to tell him."

"I like how you're revealing that right after you claim to be civilized."

Claudius' eyes flashed darkly. "Danarius dug his own grave by granting powers to a slave he could not control. His arrogance was his downfall. I only perfected the circumstances for his demise. This is how it goes in Tevinter. Now, we can try to resolve this situation our way, or you can leave. Blurting out threats will certainly get you nowhere."

It was obvious who had won here. Hawke ran a hand through his loose hair. "What do you propose?"

The magister considered for a moment. "I will speak to magister Gaius to see if he is willing to let you into his home to search for information. In the meantime you could try talking to Danarius' wife, to hear if she-"

"His _wife_?" Hawke gaped at Claudius before he spun around to look at Fenris. "Danarius was _married_?!"

Fenris stared back in Hawke's bewildered face. He did not understand Hawke's surprise. "He was," he replied hesitantly.

Had Hawke's jaw been loose, he now would have had to pick it up from the floor. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before he produced any sound. "Why didn't you tell me this?"

"They are _all_ married! Why did you assume differently?"

"But if he was married, then why did he..." Hawke swallowed what he was about to say. _Did he what? _"You never even mentioned her."

"Why would I? Do you want me to recite Danarius' hobbies for you as well?" At the look on Hawke's face, Fenris grudgingly elaborated: "I barely ever saw her. Danarius rarely spoke to her. She was in disgrace because she had failed to fulfill her duty."

"What duty?"

Fenris did not avert his eyes when he answered. "To produce an heir. With magical abilities, of course."

He thought this explanation would be sufficient for Hawke, but instead it only enraged Hawke more. "Produce an heir?!" he exclaimed. "What, and that was that woman's fault? Did it never occur to Danarius that he might have had plenty of babies if he hadn't been so busy with fucking you?!"

Fenris felt his cheeks grow hot from embarrassment. This was one of the things they should not speak of; a sensitive subject they both shied away from. And now Hawke just threw it out in the open! Blood pounded in his head, making him dizzy. He noticed Feynriel backing away from him before he noticed the glow of his markings. Hawke looked like he regretted his outburst already.

Fenris tried to think, determine how to react. Whether it was because of the lyrium, Hawke's words or simply being back in Minrathous, an old, almost forgotten - no, firmly pushed away - memory forced itself into his mind to be relived. Danarius after his wife had finally carried a child to term, had given birth to a living, breathing baby, and the child turned out to have no magic. It was the only time he had seen the calculated rationality disappear completely from Danarius' eyes. The only time Danarius had beaten him, scorched him, shredded skin with his nails while he took him with an animalistic desperation. The only time that instead of sweat, tears had landed on his bare back.

He sucked in his breath when he finally managed to regain his focus and lock the memory away. When his vision cleared, he saw that he was standing right in front of Hawke, one steel fist clenching his tunic. He could not remember getting closer to Hawke, or grabbing him. Hawke looked very remorseful. Fenris did not want to know what _he_ looked like right now, sweaty and trembling.

Then Claudius' voice cut through tension. "Fascinating as this may be," he interrupted mockingly, "could we perhaps get back to business? If I lend you my aid, I expect something in return."

Fenris saw how Hawke closed his eyes for a few seconds before he freed himself from Fenris' shaking grip and turned to the magister. "I assume you don't want coin?"

"Indeed. I have no need for more gold."

Hawke waited for Claudius to say what he did want but the magister did not continue. Eventually Hawke asked flatly: "What do you want then?"

"Whatever information you find about the ritual, I want you to share it with me."

"And I thought Danarius was an idiot for granting his slave so much power."

"I have no intent to repeat the ritual. That doesn't mean I should remain ignorant. Danarius succeeded where everybody else failed. Consider my interest... professional curiosity. Now, do you agree?"Hawke nodded. "And I want to examine Fenris."

Fenris bared his teeth in a snarl. "I don't think so."

"Deal."

"What?!"

Claudius' dark eyes went from Hawke to Fenris and back, as if he was considering whose word he should rely on. Unsurprisingly, he chose Hawke. "Excellent," he said with a content smile on his face. "I'll see what I can do. We will meet again shortly. In the meantime, visit Danarius' widow and see what you can get out of her. Feynriel can tell you where to find her."

Another nod from Hawke, a little deeper this time, almost like a bow.

"Hawke," Fenris growled. "If you think I will let him-"

"Shut it, Fenris. We'll talk about this later."

Fenris bit his tongue at Hawke's crude reaction. This was unbelievable! After all those promises Hawke was making deals with a magister on his first day in Minrathous, and at Fenris' expense! He was seething with rage and felt his control slipping away with each passing second. The markings burned in his flesh while demons cackled in his head.

Hawke quickly bid magister Claudius goodbye and left the office. Fenris stormed after him. He wanted to yell at Hawke, but Hawke shot him a warning look and subtly gestured with his head in Feynriel's direction, who had closed the door to Claudius' office behind him and was now catching up with them.

"I'm glad he's decided to help you," Feynriel said. He looked relieved. Probably more for his own sake than theirs, Fenris thought.

Hawke smiled a tense smile. "Thank you for your help, Feynriel. I apologize for the way we barged in, but as you understand it's urgent."

"It's alright. I still owe you, Hawke."

"Don't worry about it. You have already done us a big favor. I hope Claudius can convince that other magister to cooperate."

"I bet he will," Feynriel reassured him.

"Can you tell us how to reach Danarius' widow?"

Feynriel explained where she lived. He was just finished by the time they reached the exit. The gigantic doors swung open when they approached. After another quick goodbye Fenris and Hawke were back outside. The sun had set during their time in the Circle. Small magical lights lit up in the evening, spreading a harsh, unnatural light.

When they were out of earshot of the two guards, Hawke opened his mouth. "You're mad. Again."

"You sold me out to the first magister you could find!"

Hawke sighed. Suddenly he looked almost as tired as Fenris felt. "I did not "sell you out"," he objected. "But we had to convince Claudius to help us somehow."

"You betrayed me!"

Hawke halted. "Think about it, Fenris! We are alone here. We have to get people on our side. Magisters won't help us for free. We don't have room for negotiation. Claudius had to believe he would get something that he wants if he aids us. That doesn't mean that he _will_ get it."

Fenris eyed Hawke for a moment while he thought about this explanation. "You would break your word to magister?" he asked skeptically.

Hawke grinned. "Why not? He certainly looked like he was already trying to come up with a way to break his word to us."

That reassured Fenris a little. "It... seems I was too hasty in my reaction," he said awkwardly. "I apologize."

"I need to apologize as well."

Fenris looked away.

"Fenris... What I said... about Danarius... I'm really sorry. I went too far. It's just... for some reason I imagined Danarius as a lonely, sick bastard, and that that was why he..."

_What is it, Damian? You were able to say the word in Claudius' study._

"Do you... do you still not want to talk about it? It's up to you, but maybe... maybe if I know... it will help."

Fenris clenched his jaw to keep every word that would try to escape inside. On this subject he should not and would not breach his silence. Hawke would never understand. The more he knew, the more disgust he would feel. His reaction to finding out that Danarius had had a wife had made that abundantly clear.


	10. Chapter 10

"So... what now?" Hawke asked Fenris as they continued their way down the hill. "We have to find a place for the night. Do you know an inn where we could stay?"

"I have never stayed in an inn here before, but we should be able to find several near the docks."

"Alright. Then we go back the way we came." Hawke brushed the hair out of his eyes. "How are you holding up, Fenris? I know being here is difficult for you, and I didn't exactly make it easier either."

"It would have helped if you had not acted like a fool in there."

"Huh? Well, thanks."

Fenris scowled. "Threatening a magister. You realize that if you anger one of them, you risk uniting them all against you."

Hawke glanced at Fenris. "You didn't really give me much to go on. I took a gamble, one I admit was wrong, but I saw no other way. That snake was toying with us. And if what you say was true, we should have achieved that with Danarius. Instead Claudius more or less congratulated us."

Fenris kept his eyes on the road. He did not like it all that he had been used as a tool in another magister's political game. His dealings with Danarius had been personal, meant to break his last bond to the Imperium. Killing Danarius had not been as satisfying as he had hoped, and knowing that he had done the dirty work for another magister soured the memory even more. Both he and his sister had been used. Neither of them had been more than a pawn to the magisters. Maker, he hated this place.

Hawke shot another look at Fenris, seemingly trying to guess his thoughts, but he did not say anything else. Fenris sensed a shift, the renewed formation of distance between them. He knew that Hawke was still thinking about Danarius and he did not want to guess the things Hawke was imagining. Fenris' refusal to reveal any details did visibly not sit well with Hawke. Fenris in return could not so easily get over the fact that Hawke had agreed to Fenris being examined by Claudius without ever asking for Fenris' consent. It was easy for Hawke to say that they would not keep their end of the bargain. Claudius would not be fooled, and then Fenris was the one to suffer the consequences.

All in all the tension between them failed to lessen on their way back to the docks.

* * *

They rented a room in a decent inn. It was not so cheap that it was rundown and a meeting place for scum and not so fancy that mages would stay there. The majority of the guests seemed to be traders and merchants.

Hawke ordered two meals and the innkeeper - probably deliberately - directed them to a table in a shadowy corner. Even there Fenris felt the staring eyes of the other guests. The loud conversations had dimmed to a more discrete level after they had entered, and Fenris was surprised to hear not only his own name but Hawke's mentioned as well. It seemed he had underestimated the local interest in the story of Hawke and the Arishok. Years of war with the Qunari had resulted in a deeply ingrained hatred for the horned people. One of the few things ordinary folk and the magisters had in common.

Hawke showed little interest in the gossiping while he ate. Fenris guessed he was used to strangers saying his name and did not consider it noteworthy, although he was now in a different country and a different city than where he had won fame. Only when their plates were almost empty did Hawke break the silence that hung around their table. "I want to visit Danarius' widow tomorrow... Do you want to come with me?"

Fenris looked at the last vegetables on his plate. He did not feel like eating them anymore. Meeting Illythia was something he would rather avoid, but then Hawke would have to go alone. They should stick together...

"I can go alone, if you don't want to."

Fenris raised his head to meet Hawke's gaze. He was about to say that he indeed did not want to go when he saw something that made him swallow back his decision. Curiosity. Besides genuine concern, he could see the subtle glimmer of curiosity in Hawke's eyes. If Hawke went to see Illythia alone, he would ask about Fenris, try to learn more about his life as a slave. Hawke believed that it would help, that he would be able to understand... but the more he would find out, the worse it would get. A free man, a mage, could not grasp the meaning of being a slave. Fenris did not want pity, he did not want Hawke to see him as Danarius' pet. He wanted to be a free man, and be seen as such. He did not want Hawke's judgment clouded by his interpretation of Fenris' past. Illythia despised him. She would probably tell Hawke exactly how many times Danarius had called Fenris to his bed instead of his wife. And Hawke... he would not be able to take it. Danarius already formed an obstacle between them. So far it was relatively small and could be overcome, but Illythia could make it blow up. Fenris could not let that happen. He could not risk losing what he had with Hawke. Facing Danarius' wife was the far better option.

"No need," he replied quietly. "I will accompany you."

* * *

Illythia's house was a lot smaller than Fenris had expected. It certainly did not qualify as a mansion, which was pretty atrocious to the standards of Tevinter nobility. It was also located outside of the "rich" district where all the magisters and their families resided. Clearly lllythia had lost much with the demise of her husband. _How fortunate for her that slaves barely cost a thing_, Fenris thought when a young woman with a slave ring around her neck opened the door for them. He did not recognize her from his time with Danarius.

The slave led Hawke and Fenris into the modest foyer, where she told them to wait while she would fetch her mistress.

Illythia made them wait for almost half an hour. Hawke had gotten up from his bench after five minutes and circled the room impatiently. "She's not home," he said after about twenty minutes.

Fenris scoffed. "Oh, she is here. She just enjoys making us wait."

Hawke eyed him from across the other side of the foyer. "How can you be so sure of that?"

"Because that is the only little bit of power she has left, and Tevinter nobles will always use all the power available to them."

"That sounds like all the nobles, not just the Tevinters," Hawke remarked. He made another round through the foyer. "Is she a mage?"

"Naturally."

"A powerful one?"

"To Tevinter standards mediocre, I believe. Magisters usually don't like having a wife as powerful as themselves. Of course having magic is a requirement, due to the greater chance of producing a mage heir."

"Are there no female magisters?"

"There are, although they form a minority. But they are not married to another magister. That would make for too great a weakness. You never know if your spouse will suddenly decide to give you a political backstab."

"I see..." Hawke looked a bit stunned at the possibility of the person you were married to betraying you in such a way. "So the woman we're about to meet - when she's done fooling around - has no political role whatsoever? Then she probably can't tell us anything."

_Can't or won't. Makes no difference either way_. "Apart from stemming from the old families that rule the Imperium, she is of no true political importance. Danarius likely married her because her dowry made him one of the wealthiest magisters."

"Why are you in my house?!" Hawke quickly turned around at the accusing words, but they were not directed at him. Fenris rose to his feet in a swift movement, hoping that it did not look like he jumped. Illythia strode into the room, her dark brown eyes on Fenris. She completely ignored Hawke as she marched past him to the object of her anger. To Tevinter standards she was quite tall, nearly the same height as Fenris. Her hair fell in perfect curls over her shoulders. The dark red of henna hid every possible grey strand, but the same tactic could not be used for her face. Though she was at least ten years younger than Danarius, her age was starting to show. The passing of time had etched fine lines around her eyes and mouth, which she had tried to hide underneath a mask of makeup. The red used for her lips was too bright and only drew attention to her thinning mouth and the ageing skin around it. The paint on her eyes and eyebrows could have veiled part of her thoughts and emotions if her fury had not burned right through it.

"How _dare_ you show your face here, you ungrateful dog!" Illythia hissed when she came to a halt in front of Fenris. "I did not believe my slave when she described my guest. You murder my husband - your rightful master - and now you come knocking at my door? After everything he has done for you! How come they haven't arrested you yet? A slave who kills his own master should be executed! The guards will hear of this, I'll make sure of that! You will spend every minute of the rest of your miserable life regretting that you ever set foot in the Imperium again." Her hand shot out like a claw. Fenris, anticipating that she might try to scratch at his eyes quickly bent his head to the side to evade her, but Illythia had aimed lower and got a firm hold on his neck.

Her fury burned like a red-hot iron. The markings eagerly absorbed what was given to them, conducting the fire despite the pain. It left Fenris unable to move. For a moment the agony numbed even the voices of the demons in his head, then her hand was suddenly gone.

He stumbled backwards against the wooden bench he had been sitting on and fell on top of it. Only when the darkness had retreated to the edges of his field of vision did Fenris see Illythia hovering a few inches above the ground. Her shoulders were forced back, her arms pressed against her sides. Her head hung back and her mouth was opened in a soundless shout. The crushing prison of kinetic energy held her helplessly trapped.

It was never a good idea to ignore Hawke.

"That's quite enough," Hawke said from his side of the foyer. With his staff in his right hand he approached Illythia. When he stood in front of her he spoke again. "Fenris is here as a free man. You will not hurt him. I am sorry for your loss, but to be honest I think you're better off without Danarius. He was a sick son of a bitch and we are here to try to undo the mess he created. If you tell us what we need to know we will never bother you again." With a simple movement of his staff he undid the spell. Illythia slumped to the ground now that her muscles were allowed to relax. Hawke stretched out a hand to help her get up, but she looked at it as if it was the most disgusting thing she had ever seen and got to her feet without aid.

"So you've found yourself a barbarian as your new master," she spat. "Typical. Vermin will seek out other vermin. To the void with you both!" Fire erupted from her fingertips, but before it could reach its target Hawke had erected a massive wall of ice between them. All the fireball's energy was used up by the time it had burned through the ice and disappeared without doing damage. The ice spikes, which were pointing in Illythia's direction, melted and came down on her head in a single cold wave. Illythia stared in bewilderment at the lack of burned flesh, her perfect hair and dress soaked.

"I guess I'm more than mediocre to Tevinter standards," Hawke said cheerfully. "Now, because you don't appear to be in the mood to entertain guests, I'll come straight to business. Has Danarius left you anything that is related to the ritual that created Fenris' markings?"

"Left me?" She started shaking, from cold or anger, or both. Goosebumps covered her bare arms. "Do you think that Danarius has "left" me anything? That I am here of my own volition and for my own pleasure? You believe it my choice to live here? As soon as message of my husband's death reached us, the magislation reclaimed ownership of the mansion and everything inside it. This was accommodation meant for a magister, they said, and with that it became Gaius' property. I could have inherited personal belonging if my husband had left a will, but he did not anticipate falling by the hands of a slave, so I'm left with nothing."

Hawke looked around the room. "I would hardly call this nothing."

He only received an angry stare in return. Illythia then turned her attention back to Fenris. "Why did you do it?" she asked, her voice suddenly soft. "How could you? Danarius gave you so much... His eyes sought you more often than me. What gave you the right to murder him?" Her voice rose. "I _despise_ you. Would that I had what you seek so I could turn it to ashes before your very eyes! Now get out of my sight!"

Fenris pushed himself back up from the bench. His markings were still throbbing painfully from Illythia's treatment. He did not have to look to know the lyrium was spreading its blue light. He took one slow step forward, his gaze pinning the woman in front of him on her spot. Another step; his toes came in contact with cold water. Hawke's hand touched his arm to stop him, but Fenris shrugged him off.

_"Kill her."_

_"Tear her head off."_

_"That will be fun!"_

_Oh, it would._

Illythia's anger wavered and disappeared as she realized how near death was to her now. With the loss of anger, her pride died as well. She was no longer the impressive woman she had tried to be, with her delicate curls turned into wet strands, her layer of makeup dripping off of her face and her dress sticking to her body to reveal the shape of breasts and hips. Her eyes were round while she watched Fenris taking a third step, that brought him very close to her, closer than she would ever allow a slave to be. He heard her breath hitch.

For a few seconds he did nothing, enjoying the buildup of tension, the power he held now that he was free. He would not bow his head and crawl out of sight like she wanted him to. Not anymore.

"He deserved it." He was so close to her that the words brushed against her face. Then he abruptly turned around and left the house.

Hawke caught up with him before he had reached the end of the street.

"That didn't go very well," he said, audibly disappointed. "I thought you were going to kill her."

_"So did I."_

_"Such a pity."_

_"Coward."_

"Would you have tried to stop me?"

"I hadn't quite decided yet."

_Then you were already too late._

"At least we know she has no information."

"Unless she was lying."

"You heard her. She would have liked to burn it in front of us."

"Couldn't she be a very good liar?"

"She isn't."

"If you say so." Hawke sighed. "I don't know if I should be relieved or disappointed that she doesn't know anything. Now Gaius' permission to investigate his mansion seems our only chance."

"If he indeed gives permission."

"He will likely profit from it too if we find anything. He has nothing to lose, only a little bit of privacy. Hey, Fenris, slow down! Are you alright? Did she hurt you badly?"

"I've endured worse."

"You're still glowing."

"I know," he said through gritted teeth. "I can't stop it."

"Then hold on a moment. Running is not likely to help." Hawke managed to get a hold on Fenris' arm, which powered up the markings even more, and pulled him to a halt. He tried to calm himself, calm the markings, but they ignored his will.

_"You can still go back to kill her."_

_"Or you can kill _him_. He's annoying."_

Hawke's voice cut through the ongoing voices in his head. "Fenris. Fenris, look at me." The hand moved from Fenris' arm to the side of his head and was joined by the second hand on the other side. Together they forced his head to turn towards Hawke's face. His eyes still tried to flee, darting away from the piercing blue eyes that attempted to meet them. "Are you hearing the demons?"

_"Kill them all."_

"Fenris!" Reluctantly he forced himself to look at Hawke. It took even more effort to formulate a reply.

"Yes."

"It's okay. Try to relax. You're doing well. You didn't kill her. You're in control. Breathe." Fenris felt magic flow from Hawke's hands through the lyrium. The healing spell eased the burning of his markings and helped to calm them. After a few breaths he managed to deactivate them. With it the demons became less loud as well. Now that he could relax a bit he noticed how stiff with tension he had been. His muscles felt strained, as if he had wielded his sword for hours.

_I'm tired. Why am I so tired?_

Hawke still had not let him go, holding Fenris' face firmly with both hands. Only when Fenris tried to pull free did Hawke release him. "Better?"

Fenris nodded weakly.

_"Just give in."_

_"This is getting tedious."_

"Don't worry," Hawke said firmly. "We will have the solution soon."


	11. Chapter 11

Because they had nothing else to do they decided to pay another visit to the Circle, in case Claudius had already had word with Gaius, but this time they were turned away at the door and the mentioning of Hawke's name did not change that. The Champion of Kirkwall yelled at the stoic guards for some time before he gave up and turned away in frustration.

"What shall we do now?" he asked Fenris. "Care to show me around the city for a bit?"

"I... could do that." Fenris had to do his best to let his mind function through the fog that smothered coherent thoughts. Despite Hawke's quick healing the markings still bothered him. Echoes of Illythia's spell coursed through the lyrium, sustaining the burning sensation. At least he had regained control of them: he was no longer emanating a blue light. If only he could also regain control of his mind. It was not even noon, yet sleep was pulling at his consciousness.

_"Sleep."_

_"Come to us."_

_No. I've managed for years with a few hours of sleep each night. There's no reason that should change now. I will not do anything you want._

One of the demon's laughed. _"Except you won't be able to resist soon."_

_Lies_. Fenris shook his head to combat the weariness and looked at Hawke. "Where would you like to go?"

* * *

A week passed before they were finally allowed back into the Tevinter Circle again. They had made the trek up the hill each day, often even twice a day. The guards rolled their eyes as soon as they caught sight of Hawke and Fenris but refused to let them in or give any indication when they could meet Claudius again. Hawke and Fenris were starting to lose hope that Claudius would live up to his word when on the seventh day the guards made the gesture that opened the doors and stepped aside. "Magister Claudius wishes to see you within an hour."

Fenris did not feel as hopeful as Hawke looked. That Claudius wanted to see them after a week of silence only meant that the magisters had decided how to deal with them. Whether that would be in their advantage was highly questionable.

Because the building was busier during the middle of day, they decided to wait in front of Claudius' office. They both thought it better not to draw too much attention. Illythia's reaction had made Hawke more careful around the rest of Tevinter's elite. Apparently he had realized nobody would help them out of the kindness of their black heart. Neither of them had brought up the failed meeting with Danarius' widow. Hawke was remarkably quiet on the subject of Danarius and Fenris' past. That would have been fine by Fenris, if he had not had the idea that Hawke was thinking about it often and was caught more than once looking at Fenris with forbidden questions in his eyes.

Fenris' belief that people with power used that power whenever they got the chance was once again proven true, as Claudius made them wait for more than an hour before he opened the door of his office and beckoned them to come in. Surprisingly there were three chairs placed in the room, one on Claudius' side of the desk and two on the opposite side. Fenris could not recall he had ever been allowed to take a seat in the presence of magisters. Hawke simply sat down and leaned against the back of his chair. A chair was a chair as far as he was concerned. When Fenris sat down, it was on the edge of his seat and his muscles ready to jump back up if the situation required it. Everything that did not match his expectations was reason for suspicion.

Claudius moved in the same nonchalant -yet elegant - manner as the previous time they had met. He strolled around his desk and seated himself as if his chair was actually a throne. "So," he began. "I trust you've had a pleasant stay so far? What do you think of our beautiful city?"

Hawke looked at the magister with irritation. "I am not here to play tourist, as you very well know," he bit back. "Yet you let the guards keep me out for a week to prove that you are in charge. Well, you've had your amusement. Now be so kind to get to the point and tell us if Gaius has agreed to allow us into his mansion."

Claudius raised his dark eyebrows at this shocking lack of civility. "I see your manners have not improved despite a week in the most civilized city of Thedas." He shook his head. "Very well, I won't keep you in suspense much longer. But first..." he leaned a bit forward. "Could you explain to me why my niece came to see me, nearly hysterical and claiming that two people had tried to kill her?"

"Danarius' widow is family of yours?" Hawke let out a sigh. "Why am I not surprised? Well, I can assure you that if either of us wanted her death, she would not have been able to run to you after our visit." Hawke smiled a smile that was supposed to look modest, but in Claudius' face became the opposite.

The magister still remained calm. "Be that as it may, she vocally asked for your arrest and execution, especially of Fenris here..."

Sensing an ambush, Fenris wanted to jump to his feet and pull his weapon, but Claudius' eyes pinned him in his chair. Fenris was not entirely convinced that magic had been used to keep him in place. The unquestionable authority that radiated from this magister made disobedience near impossible. Slowly Claudius' mouth curved into a smile that made it perfectly clear that he was in complete control. Hawke's smile had been a grimace in comparison. "Rest assured, I have made it clear to Illythia that you are currently guests of the Imperium and therefore will not be arrested... nor executed."

_He must really want the secret of the markings._ Next to him, Hawke relaxed in his chair, but Fenris was not so easily reassured. You could not trust anything a magister said, and it was obvious that Claudius could always conveniently change his mind. They were guests as long as he said so, and not a second longer.

"But I'm afraid I have some bad news as well," Claudius continued. "Unfortunately magister Gaius has declined your request to search his home."

Fenris was not very surprised about that, but since Claudius seemed set on recovering the necessary information about the ritual it made little sense. It was possible that Gaius hoped to find the information himself and not share it with rivals like Claudius, but Gaius was a new magister, the replacer of Danarius. Certainly Claudius could apply enough pressure to let this junior member of the magislation do his bidding? Starting off with Claudius as your enemy was not the best beginning of your career.

"Why not?" The question came from Hawke.

Claudius spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "It is not my place to question a colleague's decisions. It is his home, so it is within his right to deny access." Their visible disappointment brought a new smile to the magister's face. "Ah, but do not despair my friends! Not all is lost. You still have a chance, albeit a risky one."

Hawke immediately took the bait. "Tell us."

Now it was the magister who leaned back in his chair and Hawke eagerly leaning forward. "Because I sympathize with your cause, I have laid your case before the Archon, and he has agreed that the circumstances require a certain amount of compassion. Therefore he has granted permission for you to compete with magister Gaius for his belongings in an official duel."

Hawke only hesitated for a moment before he agreed. "If that's what it takes, I'll duel him."

An approving smile from Claudius. "Excellent! This will be quite the spectacle I'm sure. I shall draw up the terms of the duel immediately. Now, your winnings will be Gaius' mansion and everything in it. Of course Gaius should gain something from victory as well."

Fenris froze in his chair. Everything was back to making sense again. None of the magisters were out to help them. They were only interested in Danarius' ritual and the single successful subject. If there was an easy way to acquire both they would take it. A duel allowed them to get rid of Hawke and claim ownership of Fenris at the same time, and all completely legal at that.

Claudius' dark brown eyes carefully measured Fenris' reaction. Fenris did his best to keep his face emotionless, but could not prevent beads of sweat forming across his brow. The demons made no attempt to hide their amusement.

"I take it Gaius doesn't want coin either?"

Claudius wrote something on the parchment. "I think we both know that you can't possibly find enough coin to match the value of Gaius' estate." He looked up, this time focusing on Hawke. "Fenris should be worth enough."

A heavy silence fell. They were cornered. The offer demanded too much. Their hope of finding what they needed was crushed. "Fenris is worth as much as an estate complete with household?" Hawke sounded like he could barely believe it.

"He is," Claudius acknowledged.

Fenris bit his lip. It was not surprising it all. He had known from the beginning that going to Tevinter would be no good. He turned his eyes to Hawke to share their disappointment, their defeat, but what he saw when he met Hawke's gaze made his blood turn to ice. Looking into Hawke's eyes was like looking over the edge of a ravine. It was facing a vast emptiness, despair without boundaries, and Fenris knew with terrible certainty: _he is going to agree._

"Damian, no."

"I don't like it either, Fenris, but what choice do we have? If you have something in your pockets that is worth enough to bet against a complete mansion I would love to hear it, because I've got nothing."

"My freedom is not yours to bargain with!"

"Hey, I am the one to risk his life in a duel!"

"I would gladly trade places with you," Fenris growled.

"I'm sorry, but I see no alternative. If you do, I will eagerly seize it."

Fenris' mind worked feverishly to come up with an escape, but he could not think of anything. They could break into Gaius' mansion - he knew the way - but he had no idea where Danarius could have hidden notes on the ritual, so they would need time to search the place. Time they would not have. If they refused the duel the magisters would be suspicious and be sure to guard the place heavily. They would likely do that if they agreed to the duel as well... It would be impossible to remain unnoticed long enough to find what they were looking for. Leaving Minrathous and the Imperium would be the only alternative, and Fenris had to admit that their chances of finding a solution for the unstable markings were pretty slim. He clenched his fingers around the edges of his seat. "There is always a choice," he insisted. "We could leave. I told you nobody here would aid us."

"We can't leave. Fenris, don't you see? If we do nothing this will not end well. You are losing control. I... I fear you won't survive if we don't fix this."

And there it was. The truth from Hawke. Fenris swallowed heavily. It was not that he had not realized himself that his markings were an increasing danger, but to hear it confirmed by Hawke... He felt trapped, cornered by the man he loved and a Tevinter magister. Pushed in the direction of what seemed like the only solution, but with such a high price attached. Was anything worth the risk of slavery? Would he not rather die than be chained once more?

"I will not be a slave again," he croaked.

"But you won't! I won't lose, I promise. I can defeat Gaius and I will." Hawke placed a hand on Fenris' knee. "Believe in me. Trust me. Please."

If Hawke lost, it would mean his death. Fenris would be a slave again. How could his life be worth such a risk? He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. The words he had spoken to Hawke not long after Danarius' death welled up in him. _Nothing can be worse than the thought of living without you._ He had put his faith in Hawke many times before, and Hawke had never let him down. Hawke asked to trust him in this, trust that he would win the duel. Trust in Hawke to fight. Hawke could fight like no other. Fenris had witnessed many of Hawke's battles in which the odds were strongly in the opponent's favor. Hawke had always won.

With a deep breath, Fenris opened his eyes. "Alright," he said. _I am going to regret this._

Hawke gave a quick squeeze in Fenris' leg before he sat upright and spoke to Claudius. "Agreed. Fenris for Gaius' estate and everything in it."

_"See how quick he is to gamble with you."_

_"He happily trades you for a heap of stones."_

Claudius flashed his broadest smile and immediately wrote something down.

_"You don't believe he cares about you, do you?"_

_"You are alone."_

"The duel is to the death?" Hawke asked.

"Not necessarily," Claudius replied smoothly. "The victor is usually known before the death of one of the duelists. One can always surrender, but it is up to the victor to decide whether to accept such a surrender or to deal the final blow. In your case... well, would you like to have a very vengeful, homeless magister as your enemy?"

Hawke nodded. "I understand. To the death it is then."

The magister chuckled softly. "I begin to see how you could defeat the Arishok."

"What about blood magic?"

Claudius put down his quill and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Why, blood magic is forbidden, naturally."

"Gaius will not use blood magic during the duel?"

"No magister would dream of such a thing! I don't know what wild tales you have heard about us in your barbaric lands, but I guarantee you that you will not see a magister slit his wrists in the arena during an official duel."

"If Gaius does draw blood to fuel his spells, other magisters will intervene?"

Claudius' face flushed red. "The nerve to hammer on such a subject! I repeat: the use of blood magic is illegal in the Imperium, and the punishments for using it during a duel will be severe. Have I addressed your concerns to your satisfaction now?"

Hawke glanced at Fenris before he replied. "I suppose."

Claudius snorted and picked up his quill again. "Good. Well, I'll make sure the request for a duel between you and Gaius is submitted to the Archon for official approval. You will be notified about the exact date and time, but if everything goes according to plan the duel will take place two months from now."

"Two months?!" Hawke burst out. "Are you trying to make everything this difficult on purpose? We can't wait that long. We need that information as soon as possible! Do you expect me to just twiddle thumbs for two months?"

Claudius did not look up from his parchment. "A duel should be supervised by the entire magislation, including the Archon. We all have many duties and thus a busy schedule. Two months is the shortest possible waiting period. But if you cannot appreciate the effort we put into fulfilling your request as soon as possible, perhaps we shall follow the regular procedure and hold the duel in a year or so? You are not a Tevinter citizen. Perhaps it will not be approved at all."

Fenris could see Hawke shake in his chair with frustration, but once again Claudius left them no choice. Admitting his defeat, Hawke hung his head. "Two months it is."

* * *

"Your opponent will use blood magic," Fenris said as they walked through the Circle's hall to the library. Hawke wanted to see Feynriel after their talk with Claudius.

Hawke did not question what Fenris said. "How?" he simply asked. "Claudius pretty much swore that Gaius will not use his blood. Was he lying?"

Fenris tried to recall as much as possible of the duels he had witnessed. Danarius had disapproved of such events and had rarely accepted a challenge, and though the magister had been forced to watch the duels of others with his colleagues, Fenris had paid no attention to what was happening in the arena because it was his job to guard his master. All in all he knew little about the tricks used in a duel, except that magic was involved - which was only logical of course.

"If he was not outright lying, he was at least being dishonest."

"Great, but that's not very helpful. I need to know what I can expect so that I can prepare."

"Nervous?"

Hawke made an irritated noise, but because they neared the main library he did not answer.

It was easy to find Feynriel: he was sitting at the same table as before. Hawke grabbed the young mage's arm to pull him up and lead him behind a row of bookcases.

"Hawke! Good to see you again. But what is-"

"We've just talked to Claudius," Hawke interrupted. "I'm to duel Gaius for his mansion. If I lose, he gets Fenris."

Feynriel's jaw dropped. "What?" he gasped. "But... my master promised he would help you! I don't understand... you're not from here. Can they even do that?"

Fenris rolled his eyes. "Do not act so surprised. By now the magisters must have taught you only to care about yourself."

"Easy, Fenris," Hawke reprimanded. "None of this is Feynriel's fault." To Feynriel, he said: "I'm certain that I can win the duel, but I have to know what I'm up against. Claudius claims that blood magic is absolutely forbidden and that Gaius will not use it. Is that true?"

Feynriel nervously scanned his surroundings before he replied in a hushed voice: "I can't talk about that here. Where are you staying? I'll come visit you in a few days." Raising his voice, he exclaimed: "No respectable magister would even consider the use of forbidden magic in a duel. I advise you not to ask such questions again."

Hawke gave a nod that he understood the situation. "The 'golden whale' inn," he whispered back. Then he turned around and strode away, nearly bumping into an apprentice who suddenly needed a book from the shelves they had been standing behind. Shaking his head, Fenris followed him. _Nothing is ever easy._


	12. Chapter 12

Back in their room at the inn Fenris sat down on the edge of the double bed he and Hawke shared. During the whole way back he had continuously struggled with a wild mix of panic, rage, sadness and aggression, fueled by the demons. His voice was rough when he spoke. "So you believe I will not survive," he said to his toes.

"Only if we leave. The answers we need are here."

"You don't know that."

Instead of taking a seat next to him, Hawke kneeled behind Fenris on the bed. Two warm hands, tingling with magic, stroked the back of Fenris' neck. "I swear to you," Hawke's voice sounded close to his ear, "I will not let you die. Two more months and then all will be alright. Just hold on for two months. Do you think you can do that?"

The lyrium hummed in approval when one hand traced Fenris' spine. "Do I have a choice?"

"Please hold on."

Fenris allowed his head to rest against Hawke's chest. "I will." He closed his eyes, allowing all his frustrations to be soothed away by Hawke's gentle caress.

The hand had reached his tailbone and now encircled his waist and moved on to his thigh. Fenris groaned softly when Hawke's tongue traced the shell of his ear. At the same time the hand shifted to his inner thigh. Desire rushed through him and momentarily drove away the weariness.

_"Take him."_

_"Tear him open."_

Fenris' eyes flew open. _Fooled again._ This was nothing but a trick of the demons. They toyed with his feelings, twisting them to suit their own desires. He could not give in to that. He could not risk hurting Hawke like he had before. Against his back he could feel Hawke's heartbeat, a clear reminder of the previous time he had let the demons control him without realizing. Fenris grabbed Hawke's hand and roughly pulled it away before he pushed himself up and got unsteadily to his feet. "Don't touch me."

"Ow! What is your problem?" Hawke stared at the scratches that Fenris' gauntlets had left on his hand.

Fenris took a few steps away from the bed. "I don't want to."

Hawke shot an emphatic look at the bulge in Fenris' breeches and mockingly raised his eyebrows. "You don't want to," he echoed.

The way Hawke was sitting on the bed, his hair hanging loose around his face, light blue eyes shining with hurt but annoyance as well, made Fenris regret his crude rejection. _I want him_. He wished he could crawl back on the bed, into Hawke's embrace, but because he also wished to sink his teeth into Hawke's bare neck and bite until he tasted blood, Fenris kept his distance. "I... need some air," he muttered.

"No, Fenris, wait!" Hawke scrambled off the bed and lunged forward to get hold of Fenris' arm. "We're not repeating that nonsense of the past three years! I've had more than enough of that. If have something to say, say it."

Hawke's hand burned on the markings, or the markings burned against Hawke's hand - either way, the lyrium flared and pulsated and the demons cackled and rattled until Fenris was feeling dizzy.

_"He wants to give you away."_

_"Slave for sale!"_

Breathing heavily through his nose, Fenris freed his arm from Hawke's grip. "I told you not to touch me! If you want your heart and everything else in place, listen for once!"

Hawke let his arms fall back to his sides. "I am making it worse, am I not?" he asked. "How bad is it?"

"It's..." Fenris tried to calm the burning markings. With Hawke's touch gone, he slowly succeeded. When he brought a hand to his forehead he felt his hair sticking against the sweaty skin. "It's better now," he finished his sentence.

"Two months?" Hawke suggested with a wry smile.

Fenris nodded as he exhaled slowly, averting his eyes in embarrassment. He expected Hawke to move away, but when he glanced up he was startled to find out that Hawke was standing closer to him now. He opened his mouth to scold Hawke for refusing to use his damn sense when Hawke raised one hand and briefly brushed Fenris' cheek, careful not to near the lyrium on his chin. "What's two months compared to three years, eh?" Hawke said jokingly. "Just know that I'll be counting the days."

Fenris managed to produce a smile in return - at least the corners of his mouth went up. "As will I."

* * *

Feynriel kept his promise and visited them three days later. Though Fenris was not fond of the younger mage, his visit did serve as a welcome break from the tension that was caused by the long wait ahead of them. Two months passed slowly in a foreign country where they had not much to do except waiting. Hawke seemed especially frustrated that he was forced to do nothing until the day of the duel. That Fenris was withdrawn and mostly kept his distance further dampened Hawke's spirit. Despite the fact that their short talk had prevented a misunderstanding they mostly treated each other in a reserved manner.

Hawke's mood improved significantly when he greeted Feynriel. He let him in with a smile. "I'm glad you're here," Hawke said. "Have a seat."

Feynriel sat down in one of the two chairs standing near the small table. Hawke took the other chair. Fenris, who had been lying on the bed, forced himself to pay attention and sit upright.

"I wanted to come sooner," Feynriel said while Hawke poured him something to drink. "But I feared that would raise suspicion. Everybody already knows I'm a friend of you, so if I had gone to you on the same day you challenged a magister for a duel, I would have certainly been followed. Now that the first shock has worn off, I hope it's safer."

"Is it really that dangerous for you to talk to us?" Hawke asked.

"I'm not sure. I don't think so. But certain topics are... risky."

"Like blood magic."

"Like blood magic," Feynriel acknowledged.

Hawke leaned over the table. "Every piece of information will help," he said eagerly. "Will Gaius use his blood and the magisters simply pretend not seeing it?"

"No, no, they would not get away with that. It would cause panic among the common public, and blood magic truly is seen as something that should not be used lightly." Feynriel paused for a moment before he continued. "I have only witnessed a few duels so far. I don't know if they all do it and whether Gaius will do it, but I have seen one magister use blood magic." Another pause.

From his spot on the bed, Fenris grumbled. "Quit stalling and tell us what you know before I lose my patience, mage."

Feynriel sighed. "I saw him use the blood of one of his slaves. The slave was standing in the crowd with a cut in his hand. It was pure coincidence that I saw it. The slave was among the plebs, but I was delayed and arrived when the duel had already started. When I made my way through the crowd... I saw the blood."

"Vishante kaffas!" Fenris cursed. "That's magisters for you! Always using others as their tools."

Hawke rubbed his chin while he thought about what Feynriel had just told them. "Any chance that the other magisters truly had no idea?"

"Unlikely." Feynriel shook his head. "I'm not an expert, but several spells that were used appeared to be spells that can only be cast using blood. If they were not certain, they must at least have their suspicions. I don't think they all do this," he hastened to add when he saw Fenris' face. "I haven't seen anything unusual during the duel of my master, for instance."

"Ever seen a duel that involved Gaius?"

"No. I do not know magister Gaius very well, but I believe he is uneager to try to gain something in the arena. He is better suited for intrigue. He has a lot of connections and powerful allies."

"Yet he will fight me," Hawke said. "So, do you believe he will use blood magic in the duel?"

Feynriel hesitated a few seconds. "Yes," he admitted eventually. "I think he will."

"Very well." Hawke puffed up his cheeks. "I've fought blood mages before, but never alone. I can probably dispel a few of his spells but if he's fast that won't be enough. Is there a way to stop the blood magic permanently? Before I manage to kill Gaius, that is."

"You'll need to block his access to the slave's life blood. Healing the wound would be sufficient."

"Do I look like I have been made the way I am to serve as a nurse?" Fenris snapped. "At most I could offer a health poultice and bandage the wound."

"That won't be enough," Feynriel said. "The injury should be completely healed. I could do it, but Claudius has already made it clear that he wants me by his side during the duel. I cannot go into the crowd and look for the slave."

"And I can't do it either, because I'll be busy with the duel itself." Hawke scratched his chin again. "So, no healing. Any other options?"

Feynriel made an unhappy face. "The only alternative I can think of is kill the slave, preferably without increasing the blood spilled. In theory the death of his victim could fuel a very powerful spell, but if Gaius doesn't see it coming it may catch him by surprise. That way he won't have enough time to use the power that is released and it will be lost to him."

Fenris watched Hawke inhale deeply before he slowly nodded. "If that is what it takes... Okay. While I duel Gaius, Fenris searches the crowd for the slave that is being drained and kills him, so that I can finish Gaius."

_"Fine plan!"_

"And what if Fenris doesn't wish to kill the slave?" Fenris said through gritted teeth.

Hawke's blue eyes met Fenris' angry stare. "Then Fenris will have to consent to me being dead and him being a slave himself again."

"You do realize that you are only acting on _his_," he pointed to Feynriel, "word in this. What if he is not telling the truth?"

"Well, then there won't be any bleeding slaves in the crowd that have to be killed, will there? I doubt people will go watch a duel while they're suffering from an open wound. "

"What happened to your reassurances that you will win this duel? Now it suddenly depends on the death of one slave?"

"I am convinced that I can defeat that magister, yes. But for that it has to be a fair fight. I can assure you I will drop dead quickly if Gaius can simply make my blood boil in my veins. No shield will block that kind of magic."

"What if he uses more than one of his slaves as his personal source of power?"

Hawke looked at Feynriel, indicating that he should answer Fenris' question. "That's possible but highly unlikely. The use of several subjects would only be required for spells of greater scope. Blood magic is considerably more powerful than magic based on mana, so you need less of it to get the same effect. A blood magic spell that is meant to kill someone doesn't require that much blood - I mean, I assume it doesn't. Hiding more than one wounded slave in the crowd would be of no direct use and only increase the risk of discovery."

"Discovery you say," Hawke said. "Could we present the wounded slave to the other magisters as proof of Gaius' foul play?"

"I'm afraid you won't have enough time for that. Finding the slave will be difficult enough..."

"... and if Fenris gets the slave in front of the magisters they might still pretend not to see until I'm dead and it's too late, or they dismiss what it could mean." Hawke sighed. "No other options then. Fenris..."

"No, Damian. I will not..."

Hawke cut off the beginning of his protest. "Listen, I know I can't force you to do anything, so I won't try to. When the time to act comes the choice will be yours. I assure you that I will do my best to defeat Gaius either way, and I truly hope that I will be able to succeed without the need to harm an innocent. But if the magister manages to ensnare me with blood magic... well, as I said, the choice will be yours. Either I die and you become someone's property again, or the slave dies."

"You are blackmailing me."

Hawke massaged his temples as he spoke. "I am doing no such thing. I merely informed you of your options. I can't help it that they're limited."

Fenris pressed his lips together and said nothing. _So this was how it was going to be then?_ He thought. _Mage against mage, slave against slave?_ He looked down at his hands, not clad in steel at the moment. _I have carved my way to freedom in blood. _It seemed there would be no end to the killing as long as he wished to remain free. As long as he wished to live. According to Hawke that would not be long. Fenris made a grasping motion with his fingers. The lyrium, that reached all the way to his fingertips, caused a throbbing, burning ache. The markings had always caused him a certain degree of discomfort, but he could not deny that the pain had slowly become sharper and more severe as the markings grew more unstable. He grimaced at his fingers. _What has been done to me I have done to myself._ The markings had been his price, the price he had paid for the freedom of his mother and sister. A dead mother and a sister who spat on freedom and his sacrifice. And he had killed Danarius. Because he had to, he had to have his revenge, he had to make sure he would not be hunted anymore. And the price for that was his own life. He heard laughter and was unsure if it came from one of the demons, or that Danarius was snickering with glee from the Beyond. Danarius had every reason to laugh. Soon he would have his revenge as well. Fenris forced his hand to form a fist. His whole life he had been tied to Danarius. So much so that Danarius' death was causing Fenris' decay and inevitable demise. _One can't live without the other._ His mouth twisted into a grimace again. He was certain he had read that sentence in one of Hawke's books in a completely different context. A less sickening one.

Hawke and Feynriel continued to discuss the details of the duel and did not involve Fenris into the conversation anymore. Fenris hardly cared. He remained seated on the bed and silently watched Hawke talk. Hawke or the slave. He did not have to fool himself. He knew what he would choose when forced to do so. But that did not make it easy. That did not make it any less selfish to place his own life and that of Hawke above that of somebody else, somebody who was just another victim of the magisters and their tyranny.

The conversation between Hawke and Feynriel came to an end. As both got up from their chair, Hawke shook Feynriel's hand. "I cannot thank you enough for the information you have given me," he said earnestly. "This will likely secure our victory."

Modestly Feynriel bowed his head, a smile on his lips. "I'm happy to help. It's still nothing compared to what you have done for me. Perhaps we can meet again later this week? If you'd like."

"Sounds good. We have to find some way to pass the time."

"Then I'll see you again. Good day." Feynriel nodded to Fenris. "Fenris."

Fenris did not nod in return but simply stared at the blond mage until he had left the room. After he had closed the door Hawke sat back down in his chair and placed his feet on the table. "What is it?" he asked while he began to remove dirt from under his fingernails.

"I do not trust him."

Hawke did not look up from his nails. "And why is that?"

"He is a mage and-"

"Alright, stop right there." Now Hawke did look at Fenris. "If your argument is going to come down to the untrustworthiness of mages, I advise you to save your breath. There's a mage right here in this room and he does not have to hear _again_ how magic is a curse and that all mages will eventually succumb to their inner cravings of power."

Fenris folded his arms. "I was not going to say that," he remarked sourly. "Feynriel is not just _any_ mage, he is a somniari and has been living in the Imperium for several years now. He has received education in their ways and undoubtedly considers Minrathous his home now. That means he is one of _them_ and not on our side."

"Feynriel is one of _us_. He is the only one here I know we can trust. He has come here today to help us. He is not a magister, he is not from Tevinter."

"He does seem to know an awful lot about blood magic," Fenris countered.

"He lives in Tevinter now! Of course he has heard about blood magic. That doesn't mean he is a blood mage himself."

Fenris threw his hands in the air in a sign of defeat. "Fine!" he snapped. "Let us hope you are not misplacing your trust again. You have already learned the hard way that not every mage is as strong as you." Muttering under his breath, he added: "Festis bei umo canavarum."

"No," Hawke said quietly. "I am doing everything I can to prevent your death. It is the thing I want to cause the least of all."


	13. Chapter 13

Two months crept by slowly. Reluctantly, Tevinter let go of the last memory of summer's warmth. Winter approached and blew cold promises through the streets of Minrathous. Hawke fared better in the colder climate and moved energetically, whereas Fenris felt more and more drained. He slept many hours each night, yet continued to feel the crushing weight of fatigue during the day. In addition the demons were relentless in their assault on his mind, and the markings made it a habit to flare up at random moments. Fenris slipped back into his old habit of living by the day, with no expectations for tomorrow. His focus was on making it through each day, not wasting energy on hoping. Hawke's presence should make it less lonely, but it only reminded Fenris constantly of how hard he had to try to hold back and control himself.

When the day of the duel finally arrived it came as a surprise to Fenris that he actually had made it. In the morning he was woken up by Hawke, who shook him carefully. The touch pulled Fenris away from a dark dream. It had not been a nightmare, not really, but neither had it been pleasant. Danarius had been there, and he had laughed. He had laughed until he bent over, clutching his stomach and tears streaming over his face. Danarius laughed and laughed, unable to stop, until Fenris awoke.

He cracked one eye open to see a blurry Hawke bent over him. Fenris closed his eye again and rolled onto his other side to sleep for a while longer, but he was being shaken once more.

"Get up, Fenris," Hawke said gently. "The duel's today. We still have several hours before it begins, but I'd rather we have time to prepare."

Groaning, Fenris wrestled himself up. "Prepare for what?" he grumbled. "Killing a slave? That hardly requires preparation."

"Perhaps the slave will fight back?"

"They will place a sheep among sheep, not a wolf."

"Well, this wolf can better get dressed then." Assured that Fenris was awake now, Hawke straightened and walked away from the bed. Fenris, legs still tangled in the sheets, stiffened.

"Do not call me that," he mumbled to Hawke's back.

Hawke did not appear to have heard him. Fenris noticed that he was already dressed and ready for the duel in the afternoon. He had purchased two pairs of trousers and a couple of tunics on the market of Minrathous and was now wearing a dark blue shirt and black trousers. The fabric was of decent, though simple, quality. Hawke had worn more expensive robes during his time as a noble in Kirkwall, yet in Minrathous he continued to insist upon wearing commoner's clothing. Fenris' eyes went to the window. The curtains had been drawn and revealed a limited view on red roofs in pale sunlight. Though he could not see the sun, Fenris assumed it had begun to climb the sky hours ago. "What time is it?" he asked with a dry mouth. "How long did I sleep?"

Hawke picked up a comb from the table and pulled it through his hair a few times before he started to tie it back. "It's about two hours before noon," he replied. His tone was casual, but Fenris detected a stiffness in Hawke's shoulders. "You should be well-rested by now."

Fenris did not feel well-rested and it must be obvious to Hawke as well. The past two months his night's rest had gotten longer and longer. Tonight he must have slept ten, even eleven hours. Trying to ignore the pit in his stomach, Fenris rose and washed his face with water from the bowl Hawke had put on the nightstand. While he put on his breeches and tunic Hawke finished his braid. Fenris was aware of Hawke watching him quietly as he donned his breastplate and finally his gauntlets. The leather of his clothing rubbed in an irritable manner over his markings, but Fenris was careful not to show his discomfort. Hawke would be unable to do anything about it and he did not want to complain without need.

"Let's go downstairs so that you can have some breakfast," Hawke said when Fenris was finished. "I have already eaten."

"You could have woken me up earlier," Fenris grumbled, not sounding very convincing.

"I figured you'd need all the rest you could get." Hawke grabbed his staff and opened the door. "Don't worry," he said, holding the door open. "It won't be long now." He flashed his teeth in a grin. "Gaius is going down."

Fenris simply nodded as he squeezed past Hawke and walked down the stairs.

* * *

After having had breakfast Fenris felt his head clear a little. He and Hawke slowly made their way to the arena where the duel would take place.

"How are you feeling today, Fenris?"

"I am well enough, thank you."

Hawke sighed at the stiff reply but said nothing in return. He stayed quiet until they neared the arena. "What a crowd here," he remarked. "Are these people all here to watch the duel?"

"So it would seem."

Hundreds of commoners had already gathered on the square in front of the building, waiting for the gates to be opened and to claim a spot that provided a good view on the battle ground.

"Do duels always attract this much attention?"

"Duels among magisters are particularly popular, although I have never witnessed a gathering of this many people before the arena opens its doors."

"Could that be attributed to the fact that they have never seen a foreign idiot challenge a magister before?" Hawke quipped.

Fenris could not suppress a chuckle. "That sounds likely."

As they approached the entrance of the arena, people moved away to let them through. Many pairs of eyes watched them with intense curiosity. Excited murmurs rose up from the crowd. Fenris heard the word "barbarian" repeated often, just as remarks concerning a "slave". He was quite certain that many bets would be placed this afternoon. Few would be in Hawke's favor.

"Hawke!" a voice shouted. "Over here!" Next to the guards who made sure that the gates would not be stormed by the eager masses stood Feynriel. He waved Fenris and Hawke over and greeted them with a smile. "I hope you are both well?" he asked them. "Today is the day! I admit I'm feeling a bit nervous." He wrung his hands in anticipation.

"I'm sure all will be fine," Hawke reassured him. "Feynriel, are all these people here to watch the duel?"

"I would say so. The news has spread through the city at lightning speed. Nobody wants to miss it. No matter the outcome, today will be remembered in Minrathous' history."

Hawke could only stare at Feynriel, taking aback by the impact his personal endeavor had. Once again he found himself in the center of attention by accident. It appeared to be as much a part of Hawke as the color his hair or the shape of his nose.

They waited. Hawke chatted with Feynriel about the weather and other, equally innocent topics. Fenris wondered in silence how he was supposed to track down one injured slave when the arena would be filled to the roof with spectators. An hour before the start of the duel the guards opened the gates and allowed the commoners to swarm inside. It did not take long before the building had insufficient room for more spectators and the soldiers were forced to deny further access. The square was still extremely crowded by the time that happened. The people who had missed their chance loudly made their displeasure known. A small group who came too close were mind blasted by an impatient guard and landed in a distorted heap upon the stones. Fenris and Hawke remained outside, near the entrance, with Feynriel.

Roughly fifteen minutes before the duel would begin the magisters began to arrive. Each of them was accompanied by a personal escort consisting of bodyguards, servants, their apprentice and close family. People who did not get out of the way quickly enough were forcefully pushed aside to allow the magisters to march to the arena's entrance. All were dressed in elaborate robes of rich fabric in deep, dark red, green, blue or black. Their hair and beards shone in the weak sun of the scented oils that had been combed through. Most magisters had a woman striding next to them, clinging to their arm. They were more colorful than their husbands and their hair formed intricate sculptures held together by pins decorated with precious gemstones. The women had accentuated their eyes with makeup but had painted their lips in more subtle shades. Fenris, registering this detail of the latest fashion, recalled the bright red Illythia had used and smiled to himself.

There was one exception to the parade of peacocks. The tenth magister seemed to arrive without wife or family. The lad that offered support and aided the magister in walking appeared to be his apprentice. The young mage attempted to look proud despite his shuffling master, yet his frustration won and made him scowl. A grumpy apprentice and lack of further company besides slaves was however not what made the tenth magister stand out. More notable were the deformities of the man. His back was hunched, his skin severely wrinkled and marked with strange blue spots. The mysterious discolorations were visible on his hands, his neck and his scalp, which was bald except for a few scattered tufts of white hair. Although his robes looked like they were of fine quality and his fingers were adorned with heavy rings, the magister's appearance did not benefit from it. The black robes were hanging loosely around his body, as if they were too large for him. The rings could not hide the clawed fingers, and when the magister neared them the sunlight was not only reflected by the gold and gems but also by some of the blue spots on his skin.

"That's magister Macarius," Feynriel whispered. "Apparently he's completely mad."

"Then why is he allowed to remain a magister?" Hawke whispered back.

"Because he's very powerful as well. Several attempts to... dispose of him failed dramatically."

"Is that what caused... is that why looks like that?"

"No. According to my master it's the result of the use of foul magic."

Fenris recognized the magister and his name. Danarius had regularly spoken in a negative manner of Macarius, yet he had always invited him to personal celebrations and meetings. That was a clear testament to the power of the mage. His disfigurement had become a lot more severe since Fenris had last seen him.

So far all magisters had entered the arena without even glancing in Hawke's direction, but Macarius refused to keep walking, despite the encouragements of his apprentice, when he reached the gates. Slowly he turned around until he was facing Hawke, Fenris and Feynriel. Eyes drained of all color went over them, lingered on Hawke. The magister barely reached till Hawke's chest, yet Hawke shifted his weight nervously under the magister's stare. Up close it became apparent how his skin reflected the sunlight. Some of the blue spots turned out to be tiny crystals protruding from the magister's skin. Macarius' head bobbed up and down a couple of times. Then he turned around without saying anything and shuffled through the gates.

Magister number eleven was Gaius. He was an olive-skinned, pudgy man with a thick beard that hid part of his second chin. Small, beady eyes glared around from an unattractive face. Like the other magisters Gaius wore expensive robes and rings to accentuate his status. And like nine of the other magisters he passed Hawke and Fenris without seeing them. Hawke, however, had now seen his opponent and Fenris could sense his grin before he saw it.

"Oh, this is going to be fun."

_"Agreed!"_

"This is not the time to get cocky," Fenris warned. "Do not make the mistake of underestimating him. As far as I know the amount of fat in one's body does not hamper magical abilities."

Hawke snickered but turned serious after that. "You're right, of course. Have you gotten a good look at his entourage?"

"I did."

"Good. That should make it easier to find them inside. Chances are the slave we need is among them."

The next to arrive was Claudius. He looked as impressive and flawless as the previous times they had seen him. His wife was a beautiful blonde who had eyes as sharp as her husband's, though hers were blue as the sky above their heads. Claudius halted before the arena to greet them. "Ah, serah Hawke," he said in a smooth voice. "What a lovely weather today. Excellent day for a duel."

Hawke lightly bowed his head. "I agree completely."

"Are you nervous?" Claudius inquired innocently.

Hawke raised his head, his light blue eyes piercing the magister's gaze. "I am confident in my abilities and impending victory."

Claudius threw his head back and laughed heartily. "That's the spirit!" he slapped Hawke on the shoulder. "Good luck, Champion of Kirkwall. I think you'll need it. Come, Feynriel."

"I have to go," Feynriel said while Claudius already walked on. "I bid you good luck."

The last to arrive was the Archon. He had by far the largest group of slaves accompanying him, although he appeared to be without a wife. Unlike with Macarius, the lack of a wife could impossibly be attributed to the Archon's appearance. He was a tall, proud man with broad shoulders. He had to be at least in his early seventies, yet his tanned skin looked healthy and displayed a minimum of wrinkles. His completely bald head glistened subtly in the afternoon sun. He, too, stopped in front of Hawke.

"You are the challenger in this duel, serah Hawke?" His voice was deep and pleasant.

"I am," Hawke acknowledged. He held out his hand, which the Archon shook.

"It is time," the Archon said. "Let us go inside so that we may begin."

Hawke and Fenris followed the Archon into the arena. They were immediately greeted by a thunderstorm of sound. The Tevinters booed and cheered, whistled and shouted. As many people as possible had been squeezed into building. Only a large oval in the center of the arena remained free, secured by a low marble balustrade. A magical barrier divided the area in half. Gaius was already waiting on his half of the battle ground.

The Archon strode to the platform that was reserved for the magislation. Hawke removed the staff from his back and looked at Fenris. Fenris barely heard him in the tumult of the arena. "Here we go."

Fenris nodded weakly. His stomach had tied itself into a tight knot. The realization that he truly had made it to the day of the duel and that what happened in the coming few minutes would determine what the rest of his life would entail - no matter how long or short that life would be - suddenly hit him. These could be the last minutes he was free. This could be the last moment he saw Hawke alive. It was like that moment at the Gallows in Kirkwall, when they were about to protect a group of mages from the templars and their crazy Knight-Commander. This felt similar, but worse. _Promise me you won't die_, he had said to Hawke then. He felt like he should say something again. How could he remain silent when this could be his last moment with Hawke? But he had no idea what they were fighting for this time. This was not about ideals, right or wrong. It was another fight for Fenris' sake, but not like the battle against Hadriana or Danarius. Those had been for his freedom, but this one? Yes, his freedom was at stake here as well, but still it was different. What would they gain from victory here? His life? But there was no guarantee that he would be saved from the markings' destruction if this duel was won. Then understanding dawned upon Fenris. He was not certain this fight was worth it. It felt almost... pointless, Hawke risking his life because of this. Because of him. The fight was for Fenris' sake, but Hawke had been the one who had chosen to fight. Hawke had decided to bet Fenris' freedom and his own life against the sliver of hope that Fenris could be saved. Fenris hated that idea. He hated Hawke for this attempt that reeked so strongly of desperation. He hated that he could lose the only things that were precious to him: his freedom and Hawke.

So what could he say? He was out of time. Hawke was about to enter his half of the arena. His back was already turned to Fenris. Fenris could not let him go without saying anything. "Hawke!" he called out.

Hawke turned around, his eyes gleaming in the prospect of doing something insanely stupid.

"Don't..." Fenris cleared his throat. "Don't lose."

Hawke raised his staff in a salute, then entered the battle ground. When the Archon saw that both mages were ready, he announced the two competitors and the conditions of the duel. After his brief introduction, the Archon slammed his staff on the ground and the magical barrier that separated Hawke and Gaius disappeared. The duel had begun.

Fenris did not wait for the first spells to be cast but immediately dove into the crowd. The public was unwilling to let him through. Many people resisted when Fenris tried to push them aside and squeeze past them. The smell of sweat and unwashed bodies filled his nose as he pressed on. The distinctive sounds of various spells sang through the air. Fenris recognized the roar of a fireball, the clattering of ice and the crackling of lightning. _No blood magic yet._

The crowd enthusiastically yelled encouragements to their favorite. Fenris tried to see how much farther he had to go, but all he could see were the heads of the people around him. He gritted his teeth and used his gauntlets and elbows to clear a path for himself. There was not much time. He had to hurry.

Unsurprisingly his markings reacted to the presence of strong magic in the arena. The lyrium burned over his whole body, lighting up. Fenris cursed and increased his speed. He could only hope that the magisters were fixated on the duel before them and would not become suspicious of his movements. They could undoubtedly come up with an excuse to stop him.

His progress was frustratingly slow. As he increased his efforts to reach the other side of the arena, so did the resistance he encountered become stronger. Several times he was roughly shoved back. Somebody even groped him, another hit him on the head, but Fenris ignored it and went on. He heard the buzz of a magical shield and a sizzling noise when that shield absorbed an offensive spell. No cries of pain yet. So far neither mage appeared to have been hurt.

Then, without warning, a shift in the magical activities occurred. Fenris sensed it in his markings, which fully burst to life, and the excited giggles of the demons. A scream, louder than the chaos of the crowd reached his ears. It came from behind him. _Blood magic._

Immediately Fenris launched himself forward and started running. People yelped and screeched when his barely-tangible form cut through them. Fenris zigzagged around obstacles as much as he could. When necessary, he willed the markings on his hands to obey him, gaining enough physical matter to hit or pull people away. The tormented scream echoed in his ears. _Come on, Hawke. Dispel it. I need more time!_

As if Hawke had read his mind, the noise stopped. For a couple of frightening seconds Fenris feared that Hawke had died, but the Archon did not announce a victor and the people around him were still shouting their encouragements and random obscenities.

His heart was hammering in his chest by the time he finally reached the other end of the battle ground. Fenris caught a glimpse of Gaius waving his staff, while he feverishly looked around for blood and the slave it would belong to. He saw nothing. Only sweaty faces staring in fascination at the duel. Gaius had apparently completed his spell, because once again Fenris could hear Hawke scream in pain.

Panic threatened to overwhelm him as he searched in vain for that one person amidst hundreds. He pushed more people away until he was almost by the first of the steps that offered a better view on the battle ground. The screaming went on. Hawke was not going to disrupt the spell this time.

Then he saw her. He had almost lost hope when his eyes went over that one face that was not consumed by what was happening between the two mages. The two eyes that stared without seeing. She was standing a few steps away from the rest of Gaius' slaves. When he took a step forward, Fenris could see more than just her face. She was human, not an elf, and in her mid-forties. The skin of her hands looked rough. Cleaning duty. She was not pretty enough to be called upon for entertainment functions - at least not anymore. Shivering mildly, she was clutching her right arm against her chest. The front of her plain dress was wet and colored dark red. Fenris saw the blood oozing from the cut that reached from her wrist to her elbow.

When he took another step closer to her she suddenly woke from her lethargy. Her head turned and her eyes focused on him, _seeing_ him. Her expression became pleading now that there was finally somebody who saw her, somebody who was not lost in the excitement of the duel.

In the background, Hawke's voice grew weaker.

The woman opened her mouth, silently forming a word. "_Please._"

A last step and he had reached her. Fenris grabbed her wounded arm and spun her around, so that she was standing with her back to him. "I'm sorry."

Holding one hand over her mouth, he fiercely twisted her head, snapping her neck. The slave did not make a sound. Her body simply went limp and she slumped against him. Fenris steadied her so that she would not fall. Looking down, he saw her eyes. Eyes that did not see anything. Carefully he closed them. Now she looked peaceful, as if she was asleep. Only the large blood stain on her dress and the blood that still trickled from her dead fingertips disturbed that image of peace.

One more innocent had fallen by his hands. The collective weight of the lives he had taken was so heavy that he could barely feel the difference with this life added to it. What was the last time he had murdered someone who had in no way tried to harm him? All had been at the command of Danarius.

Behind him, Hawke had become quiet. The crowd let out a collective sigh when the duel took a surprising turn. Judged by the sensation of his markings, their plan had worked: the blood magic seemed to have disappeared. A shocked yelp resounded through the arena. Even from his place among the public Fenris could feel the pull of force magic. Many of the spectators stumbled a step forward. People in the front row cursed when they were pushed against the balustrade by the crowd behind them.

The yelp turned into a pained wail. Fenris knew that he would not be able to see what was happening even if he turned around, so he held the dead slave in his arms and listened. He heard the roaring buildup of energy. _Fire. _The arena lit up and the temperature rose when the fireball was released and struck its target. Flames crackled, frying fat sizzled. Shrieks of torment.

Silence.

When the last cries of a dying man quieted, a stunned silence descended upon the arena. The crowd fell silent, each individual mind trying to process the impossible thing they had just witnessed. The whole magislation remained silent. The voice of the Archon did not announce the victor. Fenris turned to look at the magisters on their private platform. Their reactions were quite amusing. Most magisters' faces had turned varying shades of red or purple. Claudius had gone white as a sheet. Macarius did not seem to share the shock of his colleagues and was giggling, his head bobbing rhythmically up and down. His apprentice looked like the behavior of his master was more appalling than the outcome of the duel. Only the Archon appeared unaffected. He was leaning forward, his chin resting on his hand. He looked like he had just seen something extremely fascinating, yet of limited import, like a talking cat or a dwarf with magical abilities. When the silence continued, the Archon blinked and glanced left and right. Then he slowly rose and spread his arms, asking for attention and silence he already had. "Victory," he said with his rich, deep voice, "belongs to the challenger: serah Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall."

As complete and intense as the silence had been, so wild and deafening was the cacophony that erupted after the Archon had spoken. The people of Minrathous booed and cheered, stomped their feet, clapped their hands, jumped up and down, chanted Hawke's name. Fenris lowered the dead slave's body until she was leaning against the first step. He doubted the mad crowd would notice her. The chaos now was even greater than during the duel itself.

For a moment he remained next to her, his head lowered. _Maker, watch over her soul._ Then he turned away and pushed through the masses of wildly moving bodies. This time people were more willing to let him through, though the path still was not easy. Strangers patted him on the back, pulled him in a crushing hug or tried to include him in a mad dance. Fenris wrestled himself past it all, till he was finally standing by the marble balustrade. He saw Hawke in the middle of the arena, both his free hand and the hand holding his staff above his head, welcoming the admiration of the public. Fenris' heart leapt. With weakened legs he climbed over the balustrade. He landed close to the charred remains of Gaius. The colorful robes had been reduced to a black crisp. The same could be said about the magister. Fenris only glanced at the body in passing while he walked unsteadily in Hawke's direction. _He's alive. He won. The fool actually won. _

Hawke saw him immediately. He lowered his arms and grinned like an idiot. As Fenris approached Hawke, he could see the discoloring on Hawke's neck and face. The blood magic had damaged or destroyed several veins, leading to the blood spreading underneath his skin. The left side of Hawke's face looked like one large bruise.

He understood Hawke a little bit better now. He understood the reason to fight. It was why he had killed the slave, and Hawke had killed Gaius. _Nothing can be worse than the thought of living without you._

After what felt like an hour of walking, Fenris stood in front of Hawke. _He's alive._ "You... you look awful."

That elicited a chuckle from Hawke. "I'll heal the rest in a minute." Hawke took the last step that separated them, wrapped his hands around Fenris and pulled him in for a kiss. Without thinking Fenris answered the kiss, allowing Hawke's tongue to part his lips and slip into his mouth. Hawke's staff pressed against his back, but he did not care. He hesitated for a second before he raised his hands and held Hawke's head to encourage him to continue. His markings refused to stop glowing, he was hot and sweaty and exhausted, the demons goaded him to strip and take Hawke right there, in the arena in front of thousands of people, the image of the slave woman trembling and clutching her bleeding arm was stuck in his head, but he ignored it all. For now. This moment was theirs. This moment the former slave and the barbarian celebrated their victory before the eyes of the magisters and people of Tevinter.


	14. Chapter 14

They broke off their kiss when several magisters had left their seats and approached the victors. Claudius was the first to congratulate Hawke.

"An impressive recovery," he said. "For a moment I was quite certain you were done for. It was a lucky coincidence that Gaius suddenly lost control over his spell..."

Hawke grinned triumphantly. "Lucky indeed," he cheerfully agreed. "But I am a man known for my luck."

Claudius' eyes glimmered darkly. "So I've seen. Extremely fortunate for you that Gaius made such a beginner's mistake. Usually even our apprentices are above that level."

"Insufficient willpower," Hawke replied with a shrug.

"Hmm."

The Archon gave Claudius a disapproving look. "Magister Claudius, where are your manners? Our Fereldan guest has treated us on an excellent display of magical ability, and yet you are trying to downplay his victory. Would you accuse any of your colleagues of winning by sheer luck? Now be a good host and invite our victor to the celebration party."

Claudius made a formal bow in the Archon's direction. "Of course. Apologies." He turned back to Hawke. "As is our custom, there is a party in honor of the duel's victor. Since it is my turn to be the host, you are more than welcome in my home to properly enjoy your victory."

"I do love parties." Hawke returned Claudius' bow, although he made sure it was not a deep as the magister's. "I will gladly seize the opportunity and take advantage of your hospitality."

When Claudius smiled, he reminded Fenris very strongly of Danarius. "Marvelous! We will leave when you're ready."

Hawke looked like he felt completely ready for a victory party, but Fenris placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him down a little to whisper in his ear. "We can't leave yet."

Hawke stared at him, his brow lowered in confusion. He waited for an explanation, but Fenris was not willing to give one in front of the magisters. When he did not get a reason, Hawke straightened. "If you don't mind, I'd like a moment to recover before I go with you," he said to Claudius. "You can travel ahead if you wish. We will follow shortly."

Claudius tilted his head. "Very well. I'll make sure everything is arranged for you arrival." With that, Claudius and the majority of his colleagues took their leave. Feynriel seized the opportunity to quickly embrace Hawke and congratulate him before he trotted after his master.

After the men, a large group of women walked past them. They deliberately moved slower than their spouses and took the time to glare hostilely at Hawke and Fenris. In their midst was a plump woman, weeping bitter tears and wailing in grief. Gaius' wife. Now widow.

"The women don't appear to be fond of you," Fenris commented dryly.

"Ah well, I've never been very interested in them anyway," Hawke said airily. "Can you tell me now why we're still standing here? I honestly would like to sit down. And eat all Claudius' food."

Fenris did not answer. Instead he walked to where he had come from, towards Gaius' corpse. Two slaves were busy lifting the magister's remains on a stretcher to carry him out of the arena. Though Fenris was not very interested in the charred corpse he could not help but notice a hole in the body's abdomen. "What exactly did you do to him?" he asked Hawke while he climbed over the marble balustrade.

"Knocked him over with some force magic when he lost his spell, gutted him with an ice spike, then burned him with fire to finish it. Didn't you see it? It was quite spectacular, if I might say so myself."

"I did not see it, no. I was occupied, as you should well know." He had reached the body of the slave. She was still slumped against the first step of the arena, her head resting on one shoulder in an awkward angle. Apparently her presence had not caused panic among the crowd. Imperial citizens knew what they were supposed to ignore. Nobody around them gave any indication that they saw the dead woman. People enthusiastically discussed the duel and its surprising outcome, pointing fingers in Hawke's direction and whispering behind their hands. A dead slave did not dampen the mood of those fortunate enough to have claimed a spot in the arena. Knowing Hawke was right behind him, Fenris took a step aside.

Hawke cursed when he noticed the slave. "Oh, no. I had forgotten about that for a moment." A sigh. "Poor thing."

He knelt next to the woman's remains to examine the wound on her arm.

"He did not even bother with subtlety," Fenris spat. "According to the somniari a cut in the palm of her hand would have sufficed, yet he slit her open from wrist to elbow."

"He cut along the artery," Hawke mumbled. "She would have needed healing immediately after the duel or she would have died then as well. Perhaps Feynriel underestimated the amount of blood Gaius needed for his spells?"

"Have you not paid attention when fighting all those blood mages in Kirkwall? When your own blood mage cast her spells? Surely killing them would have been a lot easier when they'd been so kind to afflict lethal injury upon themselves as soon as the battle started."

"It was mere speculation. I don't know if a wound like this was required. It does seem excessive." Hawke got to his feet. "Alright, you've successfully ended the moment of victory but I'm still not sure what you want from me. She's dead; I can't do anything for her."

"You cannot just leave her here. She is your responsibility now."

"Mine? This is your dead body. My fat guy over there is already being taken care of!"

Fenris folded his arms. "I meant that she is your dead slave now."

Hawke gaped at him, glanced down at the slave, then raised his head to gape some more. "Please tell me you're joking."

"You dueled for Gaius' mansion _and everything in it_. If this slave belonged to Gaius, she has now become your property."

"But... but what am I supposed to do with her then? Carry her over my shoulder to Claudius' party?" When Fenris did not answer, he went on. "Does she have family somewhere? Should she be returned to them? I don't even know what Tevinters do with their dead."

"Imperial citizens are usually burned. Slaves are buried."

Hawke frowned. "Why not burn slaves as well? Seems like less trouble."

"Yes, what use could corpses possible serve?" Fenris said sarcastically. He saw Hawke's frown deepen and then his eyes widen as he understood.

"Please tell me you're-"

"I am not joking."

"They don't cremate slaves because they could be used for necromancy?"

"This still surprises you?"

Hawke scratched his freshly-shaven chin. "I suppose it shouldn't, huh?" He let his hand fall back to his side. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do at the moment. I can't simply set her on fire her. There are too many people still in the building, and it would be highly disrespectful as well."

"And leaving her here wouldn't?"

"I... Maker's blue balls! Just say what you want me to do then!"

"I don't know either," Fenris admitted. "But she is your dead slave."

"I told you I have no idea what to do with her!" Hawke snapped. He took a deep breath, once more looked down at the body, and asked in a calmer voice: "Do you think they will bring her back to the mansion if we leave her here?"

"Not likely."

Hawke nodded, more to himself than to Fenris, turned around and grabbed the arm of the man closest to him. "You," he said brusquely. "Take this woman to Gaius'... now _my_ mansion, will you?"

The man wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I am no slave to be ordered by a savage!"

Hawke strengthened his grip on the man's arm. Fenris thought he could see tiny flames light up around Hawke's fingers. The smell of burning fabric confirmed his suspicion. "Do you really think it's wise to call me a savage after what you've just seen?" Hawke hissed while the man gasped at the burning of Hawke's fingers. "You will receive payment. Now get to it, or you can join the beloved magister Gaius." The Tevinter immediately picked up the dead woman after Hawke released him, and carried her away. When he was out of sight, Hawke smoothened his shirt. A ripple of magical energy went through the air, detected by Fenris' hyper alert markings. When Hawke looked up again, the last traces of Gaius' blood magic had disappeared. The skin of his neck and face was smooth again - apart from the reddish stubble on his cheeks.

"Now... time for a little celebration."

* * *

Outside of the arena they found their escort waiting for them. A lectica, carried by four slaves stood ready, as were several armed men who were supposed to serve as bodyguards. Hawke stared at the lectica distrustfully.

"What is that?"

"A lectica. You can be carried to Claudius' estate if you wish."

"_Carried?!_" Hawke bristled in indignation. "Do they think me incapable to walk? That Gaius hit me so hard that I can no longer stand on my legs? Bah! I'll walk."

Fenris chuckled, secretly relieved that Hawke did not want to be carried through the city after his glorious victory. "You saw the magisters arrive in these things," he said. "They all use them."

"Good thing I'm not a magister then."Hawke started walking, keeping up a brisk pace to make it absolutely clear that he was still able to use his own legs. The empty lectica and the bodyguards followed hastily. "If I had let myself be carried around Kirkwall and to the Wounded Coast and Sundermount, my head would be the size of my ass by now."

* * *

Had it been a hot summer's day, Hawke might have changed his mind on the way to Claudius' home, but with winter near the streets were cool and the sun was unable to truly warm them. Fenris' amusement at Hawke's refusal to use the lectica was long gone by the time they approached Claudius' mansion. Despite the cool weather he was sweating. The markings continued to spread their heat. He checked a few times if he was glowing. Fortunately the lyrium was not fully active and appeared relatively calm, but every now and then he was aware of the lyrium lighting up, ever so lightly. Fenris tried to silence the markings several times, but he felt his energy draining. The prospect of having to spend time in a room filled with magisters became even less enticing. He would rather return to their room at the inn, or the mansion that Hawke could now call his own.

"Why are we going to this celebration again?" he asked after another annoying pulse of the markings.

"To gloat."

"You got what you wanted," Fenris grumbled. "We can simply go to Danarius' old mansion."

Hawke shook his head. "We won. Why would we immediately run off to that place? Claudius hosts that celebration to honor the victor, and against their expectations, I am the victor. We beat them at their own game. Think about it: they want to appear civilized. Claudius was offended that I mocked him when he told us he had bribed Danarius' informants. Just now the Archon himself scolded Claudius for trying to downplay the outcome of the duel. For some reason they thought they could play this by the rules - _their _rules - and win. We have to remind them of that and hope that they will continue to honor their own laws. So we go to the party they're holding in our honor and subtly annoy them. It'll be fun."

"I can't wait," Fenris said sarcastically. He stopped and brushed his sweaty hair from his forehead. "Here it is."

Claudius' mansion was one of the largest in Minrathous. It was located at the center of the rich district and was surrounded by a lush garden. Hawke could not hide his admiration as he walked past the exotic plants. The temperature seemed to rise a few degrees as soon as they set foot on the magister's domain. The garden appeared untouched by fall or winter, with flowers in all possible colors in bloom. Before they had reached the front door it was opened and Claudius stepped outside to welcome them, a smile on his face. "And finally the Champion arrives! Welcome! Welcome to my home. It is an honor to have you here. Please, do come inside." The magister led them through a vast hall; complex, colorful mosaic decorated the floor; plants and statues were placed on just the right places. Soon they arrived in the room where the rest of the guests had already gathered. Magisters and lower members of the senate were seated on benches with soft pillows, talking to their colleagues, sipping wine and nibbling on the small delicacies that were offered to them by polite slaves. Fenris' gut tightened at this display of perfect obedience. _Danarius used to have me pour wine for his guests._ _My appearance intimidated them, he said, which he enjoyed._ This was too familiar, too much, too close. His step faltered. "I do not wish to be here," he said in a hushed voice to Hawke.

Hawke offered an encouraging smile. "I'm sure it won't be long."

"I..."

"Can I offer you something to drink?" Claudius politely inquired.

"I'd like a glass of Agreggio Pavali," Hawke replied with a stony face. "If you have some."

Claudius' teeth glinted in his smile. "Ah, you have good taste. I will order for a bottle to be opened immediately."

Hawke bent towards Fenris, and whispered: "Don't decorate the walls with this one." With a snicker, he straightened.

_You have no idea how tempting that is._

_"Do it!"_

_"Crack a bottle on one of their heads!"_

"Olives, my lord?"

He started as a silver tray was held under his nose. Fenris quickly stepped away from the young slave, who was looking at him expectantly. He was an elf, no more than twenty summers old, with blond hair and light brown eyes. When Fenris stepped back, the slave's expression went from polite to fearful nervousness. He quickly sank into a deep bow. "Apologies," he muttered. "I did not mean to offend."

Fenris wanted to say something, reassure the young man, but before he could manage to come up with suitable words, the slave had already turned and fled to a group of four guests that were having a passionate discussion about an unknown topic.

"Did you just scare somebody off?"

"I am in no mood for this, Hawke."

Hawke misinterpreted his words. "That's still no reason to be mean to the servants." _Slaves, Hawke. These are not servants. _

Another slave, a pretty human woman, brought Hawke his wine. Hawke thanked her and accepted his glass. She hesitated for a second before she offered Fenris a glass as well. His mouth a thin line, he took the glass filled with blood-red liquid from her. Fenris inclined his head to show his gratitude. He did not know what else he could do.

Hawke had already drunk half of his wine when Fenris was still staring at the glass in his hands. He had just been served by a slave. For years he had done what those slaves were doing: pour wine, serve the master and his guests.

They were afraid of him. He could see it in their eyes, in the way the man had grown uneasy when Fenris rejected the simple service he offered, how the woman had hesitated before she offered him wine. They feared him, but why? These two slaves were too young to have served alongside him ten years ago and they had not belonged to Danarius' household. Was it simply his appearance then? He realized that he must be looking worse than during his time with Danarius; clammy - almost feverish - as he felt now, and with the lyrium sending its blue warning at random intervals. Not that he had had much contact with his fellow slaves when he had served as Danarius' bodyguard... Danarius had always kept Fenris with him, always close, always ready to serve. _Always on the leash._ He could not recall ever having eaten or slept with the others. Now that he was thinking about it, he was no longer certain that was all because of Danarius' wishes, or because the other slaves had avoided him then as well.

Hawke nudged him with an elbow. "The creepy magister is coming our way."

Magister Macarius indeed approached them, without his sour apprentice this time and leaning heavily on his staff. He stopped in front of Hawke, his head bobbing up and down, and giggled. "We Tevinters tend to believe that we are unmatched when it comes to the field of magic. It is good to see us proven wrong by a foreigner. Oh, the look on their arrogant faces! Priceless!" He softly laughed to himself.

"Gaius was no friend of yours, I take it?" Hawke said coolly. He made not much effort to hide his wariness while talking to the magister.

Macarius scoffed. "None of these serpents are friends of mine. Do not be fooled by their smooth faces, little barbarian." Hawke scowled at that. Apparently he did not appreciate to be called "little barbarian" by an old, deformed little man whose head did not even reach to his chin. "The true evil hides inside."

"Macarius, you old fiend!" Claudius appeared next to the deformed magister. "I hope you are not bothering our guest with wild tales and slander?"

"Not at all," Macarius murmured. "I was merely congratulating..."

Claudius' smile failed to reach his eyes, which looked cold and dangerous. "Good. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to discuss something with messere Hawke..."

Macarius nodded, his colorless eyes somehow as unfriendly as Claudius'. "Of course, of course," he said, and shuffled away.

Claudius' gaze followed his colleague until he was certain that the magister was out of earshot. "Forgive me my rudeness," he then said to Hawke. "But I would like a moment to discuss our deal. As I'm sure you recall, part of our agreement was that I could examine Fenris here if I aided you. Of course I do not wish to appear impatient, but I have a busy schedule, so I would appreciate it if we could make an appointment."

Fenris combated the urge to grab the magister and smash his arrogant head on the marble floor. These people truly were the most despicable beings to be found on earth! In the arena the magister had barely been able to hide his shock and disappointment when Hawke won the duel, yet a few hours later he was back to pretending that he had done nothing but helping them. The hypocrisy was baffling. One thing was certain: Fenris would not let that rat touch him. Claudius would find himself absent heart if he dared to stretch one finger in Fenris' direction.

"I think your memory is faulty," Hawke told Claudius. "If I remember correctly, we agreed that you would help us to get access to the mansion that used to belong to Danarius _so that we could get the information we need to stabilize Fenris' markings_. I would give you all information we found on the ritual and you could examine Fenris when we succeeded. We are one step closer; we have the mansion, but we are not done yet."

Claudius pursed his lips. "I don't think that was what..."

"I think it was. Until the ritual has been undone, you will not touch Fenris. Is that clear?"

"Very." Claudius' dark eyes were narrow slits and it was clear that he was not happy with this refusal, but he did not wish to argue in front of the rest of the Imperial elite. "In an hour the first course will be served. You will dine with us, will you not? The winner of a duel is allowed the honorable seat on the Archon's left."

"Oh yes, I'm starving."

"Good. If you excuse me, I have other guests to entertain."

Fenris allowed the air in his lungs to escape when Claudius took his leave. He was grateful for Hawke's quick thinking, but the game they were playing was a very dangerous one. Hawke was no trained diplomat. It was only a matter of time before he ran out of tricks to keep Claudius at bay. Then they would have a true confrontation. Fenris did not look forward to that. _One step at a time_, he reminded himself. _Day by day._

An hour crawled by. Hawke spent most of that time chatting with Feynriel and asking questions about the people who were present. Feynriel pointed out the most important people of the Imperium and provided Hawke with short descriptions. Though he tried to pay attention to the things Feynriel told them, most of Fenris' energy was put into standing straight and not falling over.

_"Sleep."_

_"You know you're tired."_

_"Only for a moment."_

He recognized most people Feynriel pointed out. Only a few faces had changed. Ten years ago there had been two female magisters. Now there was only one. The apprentice of another magister had had an accident and had died.

"I've been informed dinner's ready," Claudius announced. "If you'd all be so kind to follow me."

Obediently the crowd of nobles followed their host to the dining room. A long, laid table was waiting for them. A row of slaves was standing ready near one of the walls, holding trays with wine and water, or plates with the first course: small shrimps baked in cream.

As Claudius had promised, Hawke was offered a chair next to the Archon. Fenris was seated on Hawke's other side, next to Feynriel. As he sat down, he thought he caught a glimpse of a head with a red bun amidst the people on the other side of the table, but when he focused his eyes he did not see the face he expected. _My mind is playing tricks on me._

When everybody had found his or her place the slaves rushed forward to bring food and drink. A few of the guests had already had a little too much alcohol and were becoming louder. One, seriously obese, magister squeezed the buttocks of the elven woman that brought him his plate and laughed when he saw her eyes widen in surprise. Fenris averted his gaze. Repulsion left a filthy taste on the back of his tongue. He could not believe that he was sitting at the same table as the people he had once served, to be served himself. He wished he could throw this fancy table upside down and walk away without looking back, but for some reason he was trapped here, as trapped as when he had been forced to serve. He did not know which role he hated more.

Course after course was brought and taken away again. Fenris ate little and spent most of his time staring at his full plate, at food he had never dreamed he would get to taste. Caviar, salmon, oysters, dear, boar, pheasant, swan... the list of meals was endless. Yet to Fenris it all tasted the same. _Ashes._

He and Hawke were the center of attention, but people were mostly talking _about_ them instead of talking _to _them. After what was perhaps the fifth course, the Archon graced himself to address Hawke. "Tell me, serah, what do you know of the rebellions in the south?"

"The south?"

"Yes, about the mage rebellions. According to our sources the Circles are collapsing. Did you not play a part in that?"

"Not really."

"Yet the mages seem to cry out your name when they fight their templars."

Hawke's face went slightly pale. "I was there when the Circle in Kirkwall fell apart. The Knight-Commander there lost her mind and wanted to annul the Circle without valid reasons. I decided to defend the mages."

"An admirable decision," the Archon decided. "With far-reaching consequences."

"I thought Tevinter would approve of mages' freedom in the rest of Thedas?"

The Archon smiled thinly. "Except there's no such thing yet beyond our borders and mages are fleeing to Tevinter en masse."

Hawke struggled to keep up. "And this is... bad?"

"They're potential competition," the Archon said simply. "At least the majority of the senate considers them as such. They fear all these mages might upset the balance in the Imperium, as they've already done in the Free Marches, Orlais and Ferelden. We are occupied with the Qunari conflict. Unrest within our own realm is highly undesirable. "

"I'm... not sure why you are telling me this. It's not like I can do something about it."

"Ah, I am just making conversation," the Archon reassured him. "I merely thought you might be interested to hear that you have unleashed war."


	15. Chapter 15

By the time Hawke rose from his chair to leave for his new mansion, Fenris could do little more than stare blankly at his half-empty plate. He was very close to actually falling asleep. He had lost track of time and the number of courses that passed and only tried to stay awake. He could not allow himself to be vulnerably sleeping in a room filled with mages - magisters even. That he was now almost as vulnerable as when he would be truly sleeping Fenris did not want to admit to himself.

He did not even notice at first when Hawke finally got up. Only after a few taps on his shoulder did Fenris raise his head and saw Hawke standing next to him. "Come, let's go to our new home," Hawke said cheerfully.

Fenris nodded numbly and pushed himself up.

"Do you require an escort to show you the way?" Claudius inquired sweetly.

"No need," Fenris growled. "I know the way."

Claudius inclined his head, that fake, smooth smile on his lips. "Of course. Then I hope you will enjoy your reward and bid you goodnight. We will meet again soon."

"I can't wait." Fenris hoped that it was due to his exhaustion that he did not detect any sarcasm in Hawke's voice.

* * *

It was not far to Danarius' - now Hawke's - mansion. Every now and then Fenris cast the obligatory glance over his shoulder, though he did not have enough energy to truly scan their surroundings for potential danger. Fortunately the night seemed peaceful and quiet. They encountered nobody on the streets at this hour. All respectable nobles were already at home or still at Claudius' party.

Hawke's sudden burst of laughter startled Fenris and pulled him out of his sleepwalking state. "We actually did it!" Hawke briefly touched Fenris' arm. "We won! The weeks of waiting are finally over. Within a few days those markings shouldn't be bothering you anymore. Then we can do whatever we want."

Fenris smiled weakly in return. He was still very much in doubt of their chances to recover the information they needed. "We're here," he said, instead of giving voice to his doubts.

Hawke turned to walk through the gates of the mansion Fenris had pointed out, and froze in his first step. Openmouthed Hawke stared at the path that was revealed before him. Like Claudius' estate, the mansion was surrounded by a lush, green garden that ignored every demand of winter. The same magical orbs that were used to light the streets hovered between the shrubs and trees, but because they were used more sparingly the effect was surreal and dreamlike rather than harsh. The subtle, sweet scent of orange blossom hung in the sultry night air. Somewhere farther away the soothing sound of a fountain could be heard. Impressive as it all was, the real wonder was the building that lay at the end of the path. White walls, red roof would be the shortest description, but that would not do the architecture justice. Arcs, columns, every component contributed to a magnificent whole, elegant, yet simple at the same time.

"Wow." Slowly Hawke continued his way towards the mansion. "This is incredible. When I saw Claudius' home, I still didn't think... My estate in Kirkwall is as impressive as Gamlen's hovel compared to this. You..." He turned around to stare at Fenris. "Are you really worth as much as all this? Gaius thought it was a fair bet to..."

"Regretting that you didn't sell me out the first time you met me?"

Hawke chuckled. "It would have saved me from a trip into the Deep Roads, that's for sure."

"Then I'm glad I left my price tag in Tevinter when I ran."

"Good thinking," Hawke agreed, trying to maintain a straight face. "Well, better make the most of it now that we have a palace to ourselves."

Together they went through the front door, which was unlocked. In the foyer, Hawke stopped dead in his tracks once more. "Please tell me those are the neighbors welcoming us to the neighborhood," he said softly.

"No, these are your new slaves."

Hawke groaned as an older elf stepped forward from the row of people that appeared to have been waiting for them. His skin was tanned and he had a bald head. Despite his age, his brows were still dark brown . "Welcome, dominus," he said to Hawke while making a deep bow. "I am Elias, head of the slave household. I live to serve you."

Hawke stared at Elias and the others behind him. Elias maintained his bowing posture, while the slaves behind him stood with their hands clasped and eyes modestly downcast, though every now and then a pair of eyes would flicker upward to catch a glimpse of the new master. Fenris recognized most of them. They had once served Danarius. A few of the younger men and women did not appear familiar, but he suspected that several of them had been children during his time at Danarius' side.

"Uhm... thanks," Hawke said uncomfortably. "I'm sure we'll get along just fine... I'd like to get to know you all, but right now it's late and I think it's best if we all go to bed. We can speak again tomorrow."

"What are you doing?" Fenris hissed through gritted teeth.

"Trying to be nice."

"To your _slaves_? Are you planning to keep them then?! You have to give them their freedom!"

Hawke took Fenris' arm and pulled him two steps back so that they were with their backs against the wall. Elias had straightened and looked at Fenris through narrowed eyes. The rest of the slaves kept their gaze on the ground. "We can't set them free," Hawke said in a hushed voice. "Not now. You've said yourself that the magisters will do anything to maintain slavery. If we let these people walk away, it may very well cause unrest. We can't afford starting another rebellion."

"I thought we were here to "stir things up a little"?"

"And that's exactly what we've done! We bested a magister in the arena, in front of half of Minrathous and the entire senate! We get to live in a house meant for their elite. But igniting a slave rebellion goes well beyond that. You've been accusing me of a lack of caution, and now that I am being careful, you disagree again. So far we're only a bit of a nuisance. If the magisters think us a threat to their balance, they will take action against us."

"I disagree because your "caution" apparently means being cared for by slaves. Will you let them cook for you, clean for you? Bathe you, dress you?"

"You're acting like I'm planning to keep them for the rest of my life! It will only be for a few days. Then your markings will be fixed, we'll leave, and they will be free to go as well."

"So you're only eager to start rebellions when mages are involved."

"You mistake me for Anders," Hawke bit back. Their argument had passed the level of whispers some time ago. "Yes, I got involved and tried to defend the mages of Kirkwall, and look what it has gotten me! I am not only an apostate, I am a wanted criminal with a price on his head, a price that has been put there by a man I once called a friend. The uprising in Kirkwall has ignited a full-blown war in the rest of the Free Marches, Orlais, perhaps even Ferelden." He took a deep breath. "When this is over," he said, his voice soft again, "I promise you I will free all these slaves. But for now they have to stay."

Fenris refused to let himself be convinced by Hawke's smooth words. If you tried to have a debate with a magister about slavery, that magister would come up with dozens of good reasons why slavery was important for the Imperium. Yet they would all come down to why it was good for _him_. No reason was good enough to allow complete ownership over other people's lives. But he did not know how to prevent this. Hawke had made up his mind. Fenris could try to tell the slaves that they were free to leave, but he knew that none of them would dare to go. They still had the mentality of a slave, like Oranna had had. Like he had once had. Elias certainly would not wish to leave, and his authority was unquestioned by the others.

_"This can't come as a surprise to you."_

_"You were his first slave after all."_

_"Now he simply has a few more."_

_"Do you remember how to kiss feet?"_

The markings burned. Fenris felt sweat dripping down the back of his neck. This debate was lost. He had not enough energy left to even attempt to continue it.

_"If you rip out his heart, they will be free."_

"Fine, he spat. "Keep your slaves then. I hope you will enjoy them."

Hawke glared at him. "You could at least _try_ to be reasonable. Don't act like I'm doing this for my enjoyment. I am here for you, to save you from whatever it is those markings are doing to you. If I wanted a slave so badly, I could have refused to pay Oranna."

"Don't even think of using me as an excuse to condone slavery!"

Hawke squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're being absolutely impossible."

_"Should you not apologize to your master?"_

Fenris clenched his jaw to keep the apology he was about to make safely behind his teeth. _I will not be controlled. I will not be mocked._

_"Good. None should squash your pride."_

_"Feed rage!"_

Hawke opened his eyes, and after watching Fenris' impassive face for a long moment, he gave up. "Let's go to sleep," he mumbled moodily.

Elias immediately took another step forward. "I can show you to your chambers, dominus."

"I know the way," Fenris headed for the marble stairs. When he walked past the old slave, the hostility in Elias' eyes was unmistakable before the elf hid his gaze with another bow.

"Of course you do," he mumbled vindictively.

_So that hasn't changed either._

_"His brains would go nicely with the mosaic of the floor."_

Despite Fenris' words, Elias followed him and Hawke at a few paces of distance. When they reached the top of the stairs, Hawke addressed the slave. "Oh, Elias, has the... ah... body of middle-aged woman been delivered here earlier?"

The old elf nodded. "Yes, dominus, and she has already been taken care of."

"Taken care of how?"

"She has been put to rest in the ground, as usual."

Fenris' body tensed at that, but he kept walking. It was strange to walk here again. Unnerving. He recognized nearly everything. The mask-like statues that looked down on the passing group from their position on the wall were still the same, their twisted grins never changing. The walls, the floors, the doors, even the smell of the garden that found its way here through ventilation shafts, were all familiar. His legs automatically carried him to where he had to go. How many times had he taken this route? Ten years of absence, of running, fighting and hiding; yet those ten years were easily forgotten, dismissed as nothing but a dream when he felt marble underneath his feet, smelled orange blossom, incense, and lavender in the air while he blindly found his way through the corridors. He had to consciously remind himself that the footsteps that echoed behind him were Hawke's.

"Uhm... okay. Good. Well done."

After decades of servitude, Elias' ear had been trained to pick up any trace of discontentment. "Have I displeased you, dominus?" he asked.

"No, no," Hawke quickly reassured him. "You did what you thought you had to do. Since Fenris told me why dead slaves are buried, I was planning to cremate her. But if she's already been buried..."

"I can let her be dug up again."

"No," Hawke sighed. "No. As you said, she's been put to rest in the ground. I will not have the poor woman's peace disturbed any further."

Fenris did not need to look over his shoulder to know that Elias obediently bowed his head. "As you wish."

"Did she work here?"

"Yes, dominus. She had cleaning duties and worked in the kitchen."

"I see. I'm sorry."

Silence from Elias. He was probably bowing again. Fenris halted in front of a door at the end of the hallway. He hesitated a second before he placed a hand on the doorknob and pushed the door open. More than two steps over the threshold he could not manage.

_Danarius' old bed chamber._

In the few months he had lived here, Gaius had not bothered to change much of the furnishings. The massive bed that formed the center of the room was the same as Fenris remembered. The sheets were different; they had flowers embroidered on them, instead of the plain colors Danarius had preferred. It was not enough. It was too familiar, too much the same. In the dusky room he could see the specter of Danarius standing next to the bed, an evening robe loosely hanging over his shoulders, beckoning him to come closer...

_No. He's dead. He's gone._

Fenris stumbled backwards, bumping into Hawke. "I... I will not sleep here," he stuttered while quickly turning his back to the bed.

"What? Why not? You led us here."

"I can't."

"What's wrong?" Hawke looked over Fenris' head into the dark room. "That looks like a fine bed. Is it because the fat magister slept here? I admit that makes it a little less enticing, but I'm sure the sheets can be changed tomorrow. We will survive one night..."

"The sheets have already been changed, dominus," Elias informed them.

"Now then-"

"I don't care about the sheets!" Fenris erupted. "You are welcome to sleep here but I will not."

"Fine!" Hawke threw his hands up in the air. His patience, too, seemed to be at an end. "Anywhere else we can sleep?"

"There are the chambers of the former domina's, or several guest chambers," Elias announced. "Though none can compare to this room."

"I will take one of the guest chambers," Fenris immediately said. Illythia's old room was as alluring as the room where Danarius' presence still lingered.

"That's supposed to be :"_we _take one of the guest chambers"," Hawke corrected grumpily. "Or is it my presence you seek to be rid of for the night?"

Fenris wanted to say something, but before he had made a sound, Elias interrupted. "Follow me, if you please." Hawke gave a curt nod and walked after the slave, leaving Fenris little choice but to follow as well.

Within a few minutes they arrived in a different wing of the mansion and Elias led them into the largest of the guest chambers. After having inquired if they - or rather: dominus Hawke - needed anything else, he finally took his leave. Fenris quickly relieved himself of the weight of his breastplate and great sword. He could not muster the will to take off his leather armor and simply fell down on the double bed, closing his eyes.

"You're going to sleep like that?"

"Seems like it."

Fingers unfastened his shirt and unlaced his trousers. "Are you really that tired?"

Fenris forced his eyes open. "I know it makes no sense, but I feel drained. Like I could fall asleep any moment during the day. It seems to be getting worse."

"I think I know what causes it. Your markings connect you to the Fade, and along with your markings that connection has become unstable. It seems it has actually gotten stronger, hence the possibility of demons contacting you. Since the Fade is the place where our soul goes when we sleep, I imagine that an unstable, powerful connection to the Fade continuously tries to pull you back in. You feel that as tiredness and the need to sleep. I believe that was more or less the same problem as Feynriel had."

Fenris tried to turn on his stomach, but Hawke's hands on his hips held him in place. "Enough with the magical theories, Damian. I don't need to be lectured on the Fade to know that these filthy markings are the problem."

"Hmm." Hawke pulled Fenris' trousers down and took them off. "That was Danarius' room, wasn't it?"

Fenris bit the inside of his cheek and let his eyelids drop again. _Danarius is dead. I tore out his heart. I should not let his memory haunt me._

_"How little you know, my pet."_

A hand against the back of his neck pushed him up a bit, after which his last piece of leather armor was removed.

"Do you want me to... sleep somewhere else?"

He did not open his eyes when he answered. "No. I don't." _Though I should. _

There was a rustling of fabric and then the mattress shifted as Hawke lay down and pulled the sheets over him. "Good night, Fenris." The edge of irritation was still clearly detectable in Hawke's voice.

* * *

He was lying naked on the wooden surface of a table, stomach down, wrists and ankles bound. The silhouette of a man loomed on his right. "We can begin the examination." Fenris recognized the voice as Claudius'.

Long, thin fingers traced the lines of lyrium that travelled down his spine. Fenris gritted his teeth at the painful burning the touch caused.

Hawke appeared on his left side, stretching out a hand to caress the markings on his shoulder blades. Fenris could feel his skin blister underneath Hawke's scorching fingertips. "I know how to improve upon the ritual," he heard Hawke say. "If we infuse more lyrium, his powers will increase tremendously. We can also merge him with a demon. What do you think?"

A third voice, coming from behind, answered and made Fenris' breathing speed up in fear. "I like the way you think." Ice-cold hands squeezed his buttocks. "Let's prepare my little wolf." Danarius shoved a finger inside Fenris' asshole and immediately added another one. The cold was so great that it stung and hurt as much as Hawke's fire. Fenris writhed and trashed on the table to escape, but Danarius' fingers only dug deeper into him. His lips parted to let out a scream that could no longer be held back.

* * *

He woke up with a start. When he opened his eyes, Fenris was blinded by the light of his own markings. He turned on his side and waited for his eyes to adapt and his breathing to slow. The sheets underneath him were wet; more sweat trickled down his back. In the cool night air he shivered, despite his body feeling burning hot. For a while Fenris expected he was going to throw up, but the nausea did not build up any further. Eventually the lyrium dimmed and he sat upright. Next to him Hawke was vast asleep, mouth hanging half open and occasionally snoring modestly.

The room was still dark. He could not have slept for more than a few hours, and it had done little to revive his strength. Yet Fenris was reluctant to lie back down. He did not want to be pulled back into another nightmare. He decided to shake off the memory first by stretching his legs for a bit.

Silently he picked up his trousers and put them on. He left the top piece of his armor hanging open and slipped through the door opening. The hallway was even darker than the room he came from. The only available light came from his markings, which still refused to go out completely.

"So you've fucked your way up once more."

Fenris wheeled around to face the source of the sudden sound behind him. His hand flawlessly found the throat of the person who had spoken and smacked him against the wall. Elias' face appeared in the blue glow of the markings, looking disdainful despite Fenris' hand around his neck.

"I advise you not to sneak up on me like that again." Fenris released the old elf and took a step back.

"I spit on your advice," the slave hissed. "First you run away, then you kill mistress Hadriana, then you brutally murder master Danarius himself, and now you return at the side of some savage and I am forced to serve _you_."

"You don't have to serve me," Fenris replied flatly.

Elias laughed mockingly. "Oh, that's right. You tried to get me and everybody else thrown out on the street to live among the beggars, bowing and scraping for shit."

_"He appears to be made for that."_

_It's not his fault._

"I spoke with your freedom as my purpose. Freedom does not have to equal a beggar's life."

"Said by every master's lapdog, granted with special abilities and training."

"Hawke is not my master."

"Call him what you want, I don't care. There's no denying what you are." Elias attempted to walk past Fenris, but Fenris stepped aside to block his path.

"Do you have no desire whatsoever to experience what it's like to be your own person?" Fenris pressed. "Are you content to live and die as a slave?"

"Stop trying to force your own, misguided ideas about freedom on others. It hasn't worked before and it will not work now." Elias made another attempt to walk away, and this time Fenris allowed him to go.

"Before?" he called out to the slaves' back.

Elias looked over his shoulder. "Have you not met your last victim of freedom? I thought master Danarius - may the Maker watch over his soul - convinced your sister to contact you."

Fenris said nothing in return. Soon the darkness of the mansion had swallowed Elias' silhouette and Fenris was left alone. His own exhaustion drove him back to where he had come from, to the bed in which Hawke still lay sleeping.

This time he undressed by himself and pulled the damp sheets over him as he crawled into bed. Elias' words would once have been enough to keep him awake for at least another hour, but now the Fade was quick to pull him back into the domain of spirits and demons as soon as Fenris placed his head on the soft pillow.


	16. Chapter 16

The next time Fenris awoke, the room was bathing in sunlight and he found himself alone in bed. He recalled his brief meeting with Elias in the middle of the night and sighed. Being confronted with the slave's denial was difficult, especially because Fenris knew that he would have reacted in exactly the same way if someone had spoken similar words to him during his time as a slave. Things that reminded him of that old life were everywhere here, both living and dead. Added to the fact that he already served as a plaything for demons, he feared that the last locks on his sanity would not hold for long in this place. It was too strongly connected to Danarius... the presence of his old master's specter was looming around every corner.

Fenris pushed the sheets away and swept his legs over one side of the bed. His thoughts turned to Elias again while he got dressed. He had always known that the old elf did not like him, but they had never had a confrontation like yesterday's. They had barely spoken to each other at all while serving Danarius. Fenris only remembered the heat of Elias' burning stares whenever they happened to be in the same room. How deep Elias' contempt for him ran had remained unknown until now. Fenris wondered what he had done to cause it. Simple disgust for his role as Danarius' most prized slave seemed an insufficient explanation.

A timid knock on the door interrupted Fenris' contemplation. "Yes?" Fenris called while fastening the last buttons of his shirt.

A young elven slave girl opened the door and stepped into the room. "I'm sorry to disturb you, dominus," she began nervously. "But it seems dominus - the... ah... other dominus - has gone mad and we don't know what to do."

Fenris frowned at the young woman. "Hawke? What's wrong with him?"

"We don't know!" she repeated. "He seemed in a good mood while he explored the mansion, but in the library he suddenly went mad. He picked up a book and started shouting... I don't know what we've done to displease him."

"You haven't done anything wrong," Fenris assured her. "I'll go see what the problem is."

The slave nodded rapidly as Fenris hastened past her to get to the library. He wondered what it was that had upset Hawke so much. Could Elias have said something? Had Hawke decided now was a good time to inquire about Fenris' past? What horrible things would Elias have chosen to reveal? Fenris knew everything could be blamed on Danarius, that it was all on the magister's conscience, and Hawke already knew the worst thing Fenris had done. Murdering the Fog Warriors was his gravest crime. He had told Hawke about it and Hawke had not rejected him. That should be sufficient proof that nothing in his past would chase Hawke away... but Hawke's reaction to finding out that Danarius had been married suggested otherwise. Fenris still did not entirely understand Hawke's complete surprise at that. He could only assume that Hawke's ideas about slavery did not match Tevinter's reality. Avoiding to talk about it was likely not the best way to handle it, but Fenris still wished to leave the past behind him, and that was impossible if he had to drag it back and spread it out in front of Hawke. Hawke would just have to accept that.

Once Fenris reached the library, he found several slaves standing next to the door that allowed access, Elias among them. Fenris heard no shouting or any other noises that would suggest Hawke had gone mad like the slave had said.

Fenris considered asking Elias what was going on, but the hard look in the man's eyes discouraged him, so he immediately went inside.

Hawke stood in front of one of the high book cases in the large room. When Fenris came in, Hawke turned around, a book in his hand.

"An upset slave told me you had gone mad."

Hawke raised the hand in which he was holding the book. "I can't read this," he said. The sadness fell from his face and made way for anger as he hurled the book through the room. It hit a table and fell open on the ground, the cover up. Hawke turned back to the bookcase and grabbed another book, and another one. "I can't read those either." He threw the books over his shoulder. One landed close to Fenris' feet. He bent over and picked it up to look at it. The first page confirmed what the title already suggested: the book was written in Arcanum. He looked up just in time to see a book flying in his direction and ducked out of the way.

"You never made me do this to increase my reading skills," Fenris remarked.

Hawke spun around. "I can't read those damned books!" he yelled. "Hardly any of them are written in the common tongue."

"Throwing them at my head isn't going to solve that."

"I..." Hawke ran a hand through his loose hair. "I can't believe this. All this time, all this waiting, and we're still not close to the solution. Not close enough at least. I... What now? I can't learn a whole new language just to decipher which book we're supposed to have! There's no time. You are not practiced in reading Arcanum and are a slower reader than I, and there are so many books!" Hawke's eyes glimmered with desperate frustration as he looked at all the shelves.

Fenris stared at the book in his hands, the pit in his stomach hardening. He had had little expectations about this endeavor, but still he felt the sting of disappointment. Neither of them had considered this, yet it was so glaringly obvious. Most of these books must have been written by Tevinter mages. There was little reason for them to bother with the common tongue in their works. But... was this really the place they had to search? Would Danarius have placed the answer to his greatest secret on a shelf in a simple bookcase? That did not sound like the cunning magister Fenris remembered. Every mage in Tevinter would want to lay hands on the key to the ritual. Claudius had even admitted that they had searched the mansion and had not found anything. Of course he could have been lying about the last part, but either way... "I don't think we need any of these books."

He immediately had Hawke's full attention. "Why not?"

"Claudius said they searched the mansion and did not discover any information related to the ritual. They must have looked in the library. Whether they actually found anything or not, the information won't be here. One of the other magisters has it now, or it wasn't here to begin with."

He could see Hawke's mind absorb this new perspective and utilize the hope it offered. In a manner of seconds Hawke had collected the pieces of his composure and melted them back together into that mask of determination he had been wearing since the beginning of trouble. "Of course," Hawke whispered. "You're right. You don't hide your secrets in a library where anyone can find them. You keep them someplace safe... Do you have any idea where?"

Fenris shook his head. "I don't."

This did not discourage Hawke. "We must search the entire mansion. It must be here somewhere." With large strides he crossed the room and walked through the door. Fenris followed him.

In the hallway Elias and the other slaves were patiently waiting for them. Hawke looked surprised when he caught sight of them, like he had forgotten about them. Then his face lit up and he approached Elias. "Elias, can you read?"

The question surprised the slave. He blinked a few times before he hesitantly answered. "I can... a little, dominus."

"Good. I need everybody to search the house and bring every scrap of parchment they find to the library. They don't have to know what it's about. As long as it's a book or a sheet of parchment with words on it, I want it here. Place everything on piles so that it's clear that it didn't come from the library but from somewhere else. When that is done, you can browse through it and judge their relevance. We're looking for texts about magic or lyrium, probably both."

Elias bowed. "It will be done, dominus."

The slaves immediately went off to work and Hawke turned to Fenris, oblivious to Fenris' seething anger at the orders he had just issued. "Where shall we start?"

"I told you I don't wish to be served by slaves," Fenris snapped angrily. "And now you order them around for my sake!"

"The sooner we're done, the sooner they'll be free to leave."

"Do not insult me by pretending this is about their freedom! It isn't, and we both know it."

Hawke went into the room next to the library, which turned out to be a sort of reading room with a fireplace and comfortable chairs. He began to collect the few books that lay on the low table that stood between two chairs. "Alright, it isn't. It's about you. But they _will_ be free when we leave; it's not like I'm lying about that. Anyway, this place is too big for the two of us to search through. That would take far too long, so I'm not going to turn away help only because your principles demand it." He lifted the cushions from one of the chairs to check if something was hidden underneath them.

_"Oh ho! His first day as a magister is going well!"_

Fenris grabbed one of the cushions Hawke was holding and pushed it against Hawke's chest, so that he fell back into the chair he had been standing next to. "_My principles_, Damian?! This is slavery we are talking about! I have never known that you would have no problem using slaves when it suited your needs. You actually had me convinced that you were different than the magisters!"

Hawke was looking up at Fenris from his chair, his arms and legs sprawled over the arms of the chair. He tried to push himself up into a more dignified position, but Fenris offered him insufficient room to stand up. "I will free them and pay them once this is done," Hawke replied through gritted teeth. "It will be paid work."

_"Smooth, smooth lies."_

Fenris hesitated, no longer sure how justified his anger was. "You will pay them?"

A nod from Hawke. "I will. I would pay them now if there weren't the risk of stirring too much unrest."

Fenris stepped back, allowing Hawke to rise from his half-lying position in the chair. Hawke calmly smoothed his hair and clothing, checked underneath the cushions of the remaining chair, collected the books he had found and walked out of the room. Fenris watched him leave. Hawke could act calm and collected all he wanted. Fenris would not forget the desperation that had reared its ugly head mere moments ago when had Hawke discovered that the books in the library were unreadable for him. They were both balancing on the edge of something dangerous, the edge of the Void.

* * *

Hawke and Fenris had worked themselves through five rooms when Elias appeared. "Apologies, dominus," he began with his usual submissiveness. "But you have a visitor."

Hawke looked up. "Who is it?"

"My lord Feynriel, dominus."

"I'll go see him." As Hawke set off, Fenris stopped Elias before he could take his leave.

"I don't know if he will inquire, but if he does, I would... appreciate it if you did not tell Hawke any details about my time with Danarius."

Elias raised on smooth, dark eyebrow. "Afraid that he will see through you act?"

"There is no act. Hawke knows who and what I am and is aware of my most heinous deeds. It... it's merely that he has difficulty understanding the ways of the Imperium. He doesn't know what it means to be a slave, to only be concerned with your master's needs. Hawke doesn't get that context. He believes he does, but he doesn't. "

"You're talking nonsense. Is this another freedom talk or are you trying to make me feel sorry for you?"

"Neither." Fenris looked away. "I don't want your pity. I... I don't know what I want. Forget I said anything."

Elias made a mocking bow. "As you wish. _Dominus_."

Fenris knew he should stay silent and let it be, but he could not hold his tongue. "I am unaware of what I have done to deserve your contempt. You know as well as I do that a slave does what his master desires. I never had a choice."

Only a tiny hint of sadness managed to creep on Elias' face before his willpower crushed it. "Your unawareness is all the more reason for it," he replied softly, surprising Fenris that he bothered to say something at all. He wanted to ask for more clarification but Elias refused to be held in place any longer. "I must return to my duties." And with that, he was gone.

* * *

After a few minutes of unsuccessfully trying to decipher the meaning of what Elias had said, Fenris went looking for Hawke. He and Feynriel turned out to still be talking in the foyer. Hawke offered a brief smile when Fenris came standing next to him. "Feynriel just told me that Claudius is inviting us for another dinner, two days from now."

He and Fenris exchanged a cautious look. Apparently Hawke, too, felt that this was rather soon after yesterday's elaborate celebration of Hawke's victory. Likely Claudius intended to press them to keep their end of the bargain. Eventually Fenris shrugged. "Refuse. Tell him we've no time."

"I don't think that's wise," Feynriel said carefully.

Fenris immediately turned his way. "Is that a threat?" he asked in a low voice.

Feynriel quickly raised his hands to deny this. "No, no. Claudius merely wanted to see how you've settled in. Refusal will be an insult, and usually it's not a good thing to offend a magister."

Hawke scratched his chin. "You have a point. It's probably better if we do show up and smile politely." A mild grin appeared on his face. "The food was very good last time."

Fenris rolled his eyes. He did not like how they still had to bow to the whims of a magister, though that was pretty much inevitable in Tevinter. They needed more time. It was difficult to say how long it would take to search the entire mansion and then go through all the texts they had recovered for the information on the ritual. If it was even there... if it even existed.


	17. Chapter 17

It was not very surprising that Feynriel was kind and eager enough to offer his assistance with searching the mansion and translating texts written in Arcanum. Fenris considered arguing against this, but eventually decided it would be a waste of effort. Hawke had already made it clear that he would not accept any suspicion towards the somniari. That, and Fenris feared that the demons would be able to fuel his anger beyond reason again. He was starting to doubt more and more whether his thoughts and emotions were his own or the result of their dark influence. It was frightening that he could no longer be sure about what he was feeling or thinking.

Shaking his head to focus, Fenris tried to concentrate on the current task: searching every room for a piece of information on the markings. With the combined effort of all the slaves in the household they were making quick progress. Most of the library's floor was covered with books and sheets of parchment that had been found somewhere in the house. Going through them all would be a considerable undertaking that could take days, maybe even weeks. Fenris picked up a few books and wiped his sweaty forehead. After a while of deep, steady breathing he managed to turn his markings off again. With a sigh he turned around to glance in Hawke's direction.

Hawke remained convinced that they would soon recover the solution and that everything would be alright. He searched every room with an intense focus and treated every piece of parchment as a potential miracle. It annoyed Fenris, and at the same time he feared the moment that Hawke's optimism would no longer hold. It felt inevitable that moment would come.

_"You cannot escape your faith, little elf."_

"Apologies, dominus." Elias stepped into the room and addressed Hawke. "You have a visitor."

Hawke frowned. "A visitor? Feynriel is already here, so who would visit me? It isn't a magister, is it?" he added, a little suspicious.

Elias allowed himself a subtle smile. "No, dominus, he's not. He said his name is Solivitus. He claims to have met you before."

"Solivitus? I don't recall... oh, wait! That must be Sol, the herbalist from the Gallows."The frown in Hawke's forehead disappeared when he recognized the name, then returned as he wondered how Sol had ended up in the Tevinter Imperium. "We've gathered some rare ingredients for him, remember, Fenris? But what's he doing here? I guess there's only one way to find out." He went after Elias to the foyer. Fenris, curious as well about Sol's mysterious appearance, followed.

The man waiting for them was indeed the same mage that had paid Hawke to gather some strange ingredients to be used for his creations. His hairline had retreated even further since they had last met and the red was streaked with grey. His hollow cheeks betrayed a significant weight loss, yet his thinned face lit up when he saw Hawke approach him.

"Champion!" he called out. "It really is you! I almost didn't dare to believe that the stories were true."

Hawke smiled as he shook the mage's hand. "It's good to see you, Sol. I didn't expect to see you in Tevinter."

Solivitus' face lost most of its shine. "I came here with a group of survivors from the Circle. Things haven't been easy."

"I'm sorry to hear that." An awkward pause followed. "Well, as much as I like seeing you again, we're pretty busy with something here, so unless there's another reason for your visit..?"

"Forgive me, Champion. I will not take up too much of your time. I will get to the purpose of my visit."

"I'm hardly champion anymore," Hawke said. "You can call me Hawke. Or Damian. Whichever you prefer."

"You're still very much a champion to us," the other man said with sudden fierceness. "You're _the_ champion of the mages. The reason we haven't all fallen by Meredith's sword. Every mage that has managed to flee the Gallows owes their life to you."

_He came all the way here to express his immense appreciation for Hawke? How surprising._

Hawke appeared a little taken aback by Sol's conviction. "Well, I'm glad a few mages have made it out and can now live a life in freedom."

Sol scowled darkly. "I wouldn't go that far. The magisters are unhappy with our presence. Over the past months many Circles in the Free Marches, Orlais and Ferelden have been disbanded and many mages have come to Tevinter. We're forced to live in the slums and beg with the rest of the scavengers. There are many enchanters among us, formari, craftsmen, but it's impossible to get a job. Nobody wants or dares to hire or pay us. The magisters refuse to let their system be influenced by foreign mages, despite our talents. Several starving mages have succumbed to the temptation of demons and turned into abominations, wreaking havoc upon the rest of us. Harrowed mages, who have always remained strong and never gave any sign of weakness."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I hope that in time, things will get better."

An eager smile appeared on Sol's face. "They will indeed, now that you are here. Once again you've fought for your countrymen. You showed the magisters what a mage outside of the Imperium can be worth. You've forced yourself into their ranks, as you forced yourself into a powerful position in Kirkwall. With you as our leader, we can reshape the Imperium from within and finally live as free men."

"Ey?"

_An invitation to another mage war. Also hardly surprising._

For a few seconds Hawke stared at Sol, rather dumbstruck. Fenris wondered in silence why Hawke was still surprised by these kind of situations. Did he truly remain unaware of how trouble followed him around?

"You want me to lead?" Hawke finally asked. "Lead what exactly? A revolution against the magisters?"

"We don't need to go that far," Sol replied patiently. "But you have proven yourself to them. You can be our spokesperson. You can make them see we are not their enemies. We only want to live our lives in peace. Not having to fear an attack while we sleep. If they refuse to see reason... well, we haven't come this far to live in oppression again."

"Then you shouldn't have come to Tevinter," Fenris said curtly. He looked at Hawke, curious to see what he would decide. If Hawke decided to help these mages, he would prove that he valued his own kind above others. Not only that, he would probably end up making the Imperium stronger by bolstering its ranks with more mages. Definitely a good reason for yet another argument...

Hawke awkwardly scratched his chin. "I think you severely overestimate my position here. I fought the duel to get access to certain information, information that's supposed to be inside this mansion. That's the only reason I'm here. I won't stay here for long, and that's probably why the magisters let me be for now. They don't respect me and I don't have the authority to get them to listen to me, especially not about something like this. The Archon said that a few magisters see you as potential competition."

"Then tell the Archon that they have to fear no such thing! If you spoke with the Archon, I think you're being too modest about your current position. The whole city admires you. Everybody is still talking about the duel, and what it can mean..."

Hawke stopped his scratching and dropped his hand. "I didn't intend for that to happen. Look, if the magisters get wind of how I have become some kind of symbol for how they can be defeated, they will put my head on a spike or something like that to prove everybody wrong. I am not going to fuel ridiculous stories about me being a hero for mages. Or slaves," he added, looking at Fenris. "I am here for Fenris. Nothing else. Even if I wasn't, I would not throw myself into another bloody rebellion."

"This is a result of the rebellion you started," Sol retorted. "You can't turn away from the consequences."

"I didn't start a damned thing!" Hawke snapped back. "That was Anders. I couldn't stand back when Meredith wanted to invoke the Right of Annulment for a crime that my friend committed." _That you helped him commit._ "But other than that I don't want anything to do with it." Hawke sighed. "I'm sorry. You'll have to find another way."

Sol nodded slowly, looking extremely disappointed. "I understand, Champion. I had hoped your loyalty to your countrymen and fellow mages would be stronger. I'm sorry to have bothered you."

"I wish you the best."

Solivitus was turning away to leave, when Hawke added: "One more thing: you never were my countrymen. I'm from Ferelden. "

"The Circle of Ferelden has fallen as well. There are Fereldan mages among us. And as our Champion, we certainly considered you one of us." Sol's voice sounded bitter when he said that. "I hope you find what you're looking for." With that, he left.

Hawke turned around, rubbing his forehead as if he suffered from a headache. "What?" he asked when he noticed Fenris staring at him.

"You would turn away the people you've fought for?"

"If you disagree with that as well I'm certain you're just looking for another argument."

"I don't, but..."

""But" nothing. That I've been involved in one battle for them doesn't compel me to support them for an entire war, especially if it means opposing every magister in Minrathous."

"Did you refuse because you truly do not wish to fight, or because of me?"

"Both. Now let's get back to work, shall we? Maybe Feynriel has found something useful in the meantime."

Fenris bit his lower lip, unsure what else to say. He did not even know what it was that was bothering him. Hawke choosing not to be dragged into another mage issue was the wisest thing to do. It seemed he had finally learned from the past. Yet it was not in line with any of Hawke's past actions and beliefs. Fenris had argued with Hawke about mage freedom until they both got tired of the subject. Never had Hawke given the impression that he would change his point of view. But now he would let the mages he had always defended starve in the slums of Minrathous and fall prey to demons. To save Fenris. Was it not wrong that Hawke let go of all his morals in pursuit of a way to stabilize or remove the markings? Or was it normal, would any lover go that far? Fenris knew he would be prepared to do questionable things to save Hawke. Only a few days ago he had killed an innocent woman to accomplish just that.

_"You destroy everything around you, didn't you know?"_

_"Tainted the perfect Champion."_

_"How sad."_

_"He's better off without you."_

He closed his eyes. _I'm not listening. I'm not listening._ It was simply the wisest thing to do. Angering the Archon, Claudius, Macarius and every other magister and member of the senate was guaranteed suicide. Hawke had finally found some sense in that stubborn head of his. A reason for joy, not worry.

* * *

The day after Solivitus' visit and plea for help was the day of Claudius' second party. They had spent most of their time continuing their systematic search of the mansion and were now getting ready to go visit Claudius. Fenris watched Hawke as he shaved off his three-day beard. The blade caught the light as Hawke moved it up and down and sent it in different directions. It was rather hypnotizing, the sight of silver so close to flesh, with that dark red hidden underneath...

"I enjoyed this more when you were doing it," Hawke commented from his seat in front of the mirror.

Fenris, realizing where his thoughts were taking him, blinked to break free from the mesmerizing effect. "I'm afraid it wouldn't end in a way you'd enjoy if you let me do that now," he muttered back.

Hawke snorted. "I think you're being dramatic. If the urge to kill me was so irresistible, you could jump me right now. After that first... incident, you've never given the impression that you're about to rip my heart out. Clearly you're a lot stronger than whatever demon tries to influence you. You should relax a little."

Fenris put his head in hands. "I keep hearing them, Damian," he whispered hoarsely. "They won't shut up. And I'm just... so tired. I didn't rise before noon and I feel like I haven't slept in three days. Perhaps it would be better if I stay here."

Having finished his shaving, Hawke cleaned his face and dabbed his cheeks with a towel. "No, don't let me go alone!" he whined, throwing the towel on the vanity table he was sitting in front of. "I need you. I can't be alone in a room full of magisters."

"You'll still have Feynriel to talk to," Fenris remarked somewhat sourly.

"I don't even know for sure if he'll be there. And he still can't compare to your company." Hawke smiled innocently - or at least he looked like he assumed he did: Hawke was rarely effective in trying to look innocent. "Think of it as a little distraction. I'm sure you could use some."

Fenris lowered his hands and raised an eyebrow at Hawke. "A distraction? Spending the evening in a room full of magisters?"

"A big distraction then. Come on. I might end up challenging another magister for a duel if you're not there to keep me in line."

Fenris rolled his eyes. "As if you listen to a word of my advice. Fine, I'll go."

* * *

This evening's social gathering turned out to be more intimate than the one that had taken place after the duel. Every magister appeared to be present, but minor members of the senate and many noble family members were missing. Hawke and Fenris were welcomed by Claudius and his smooth smile and led into the room everybody had gathered, which was less grand than the dining room of the victory celebration. Instead of chairs, guests were seated on elegant couches with golden fittings. The impressive presence of the Archon formed the center of attention. In contrast, Macarius was lying on his couch on the edge of the group, somewhat removed from the rest of the guests. His unfortunate apprentice was standing next to him, sulkily sipping his wine.

Claudius directed them to two seats surprisingly close to the Archon. Hawke positioned himself with a satisfied sigh, but Fenris declined and remained standing. He refused to lie down and pretend to be one of those pompous leeches. That, and he was certain that he would fall asleep within minutes if he chose to lay down on a couch like that. To distract himself he looked around and scanned his surroundings. Quick slaves hurried back and forth with food and honeyed wine. Magisters talked, laughed, drank and ate. It was the same thing as usual. Only usually these kind of small, "intimate" parties tended to turn more... well, intimate, as the evening progressed. Perhaps it would actually be a good thing when that happened this time. It would provide them with a perfect excuse to leave, and Hawke would get another nice example of how revolting the entire pretentious civilization of the magisters was.

"So, tell me, messere Hawke," Claudius seated himself on the couch on Hawke's left. "How do you like your new home? I trust you've settled in nicely by now?"

"Oh, it's very... grand," Hawke replied politely. "To be honest it's far too big for the two of us. I'd have no idea what to do with all the space if I had to live there permanently."

His eyes narrowing slightly, Claudius sipped from his wine. "Does that mean our beautiful city hasn't won you over yet? How shocking. I can't imagine what Ferelden or the Free Marches has to offer that it trumps the beauty of Minrathous."

Hawke chuckled under his breath. "Don't try to act like you want me to stay here. I imagine everybody here will be happy to see me leave."

Claudius made a disapproving sound. "You're doing our hospitality no credit."

"Oh, a duel to the death is a way of showing hospitality here? It's good you say so, I would never have guessed!"

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor, you do realize that?"

"It's usually the people without any sense of humor at all who say so."

With a dramatic sigh Claudius dropped the subject. After having emptied his glass, he broached the only topic he truly cared about. "How does your investigation fare? Any luck?"

Hawke shook his head. "Unfortunately not yet. I'm afraid I hadn't considered the language barrier, so progress is slower than I'd hoped... but I have no doubt that we will find what we need soon enough."

Claudius raised his glass, which had already been filled by one of the slaves who stood ready to fulfill every approaching need. "Let us toast to that."

Getting sick of the boring, faked diplomacy, Fenris started to wander through the room. He hoped that moving around would help to stay awake.

_"This is boring."_

_"How many could you kill before they take you down?"_

Almost automatically his eyes drifted to a group of three magisters standing quite close to each other to have a hushed conversation. _Two, perhaps three. _

_"That's not much."_

_"Would still be fun."_

He ended up on the other site of the room, near an elven slave girl with blond curls that reached till her lower back. "Does your master need something?" she chirped.

Fenris leaned against the wall, glanced at Hawke and shook his head. "He's not my master. We're... together, actually."

The girl's eyes shone with excitement. "Really? You're in love? That's wonderful."

He smiled weakly and looked at Hawke again, who was drinking wine and still conversing with Claudius. "Yes," he then agreed. "I guess it is."

She shuffled closer to him. "So it's true what they say? You killed your master?"

This time his smile was broader. "I did. I tore his heart out."

"And now you're free?"

_"You'll never be free."_

"I am."

"What's it like? Being free?"

He looked down at the girl, with her eager eyes and enthusiastic smile. She seemed a lot more interested in freedom than Elias. Perhaps the younger ones were more receptive to the idea, more willing to escape the magister's yoke. He briefly thought about Hawke's refusal to try to bring about change for the thousands of slaves in Minrathous, or even for the mages he had risked so much for. Ideals were of little use to a slave, or someone on the run. But Fenris was neither of those anymore. Was there no place for things of greater meaning in his life now? True, he had other problems now, demons were playing with his mind. But was that not all the more reason to strive for something? To offer hope to those who were still oppressed? After everything he had gone through, it seemed like the right thing to do. He was tired. Tired of living with nothing but his own problems on his mind. Chances were that there was no cure to the markings' instability. Fenris did not want to waste all his time hoping for a miracle. At the very least he could use a little distraction. Distraction that preferably did not rely on a room full of magisters.

"There's nothing better than not being owned by someone else."

_"How would you know?"_

Fenris continued, ignoring the spiteful whispers. "Outside of Tevinter slavery is not even legal. Where Hawke is from, everybody is free."

"But who does most of the work then?"

"Free people. Commoners. There are servants who do many of the jobs slaves do here, but they get paid for it. They have their own possessions, a family, a home."

The slave's face fell. "That must be amazing. But..."

He leaned closer to her, encouraging her to look up at him. "It's always possible for things to change. The magisters are not infallible. Hawke proved that. I proved that."

She shrugged. "He's like them. He's a mage. And you..."

"Yes, I have the markings. But the most important thing was that I eventually got help. Real strength is in numbers, not in unique, magical abilities."

His driven speech had drained him. He had to lean back against the wall again to stay upright, but the glimmer of inspiration in the girl's eyes was worth the effort.


	18. Chapter 18

**I apologize for the super long delay. The last two months were pretty busy. But now it's vacation time, so I'll be able to update more frequently. :D**

The Archon looked down at the magister who was bowing before him, head modestly lowered. "Rise," the Archon told her. "What is the issue you would like to present to the magislation?"

This was a private gathering between the Archon and all the magisters. During these kind of meetings the most important events were discussed and a course of action determined. Only then was the subject openly debated in the senate and an official decision made. A decision that had already been agreed upon during one of the gatherings of the magislation. This was where the true power lay.

Magister Philippa, currently the only female member of the magislation, straightened her back and met the Archon's gaze. The modesty had disappeared now that she was about to share her complaint with the group. "There is great unrest among the slaves," she said. "A small group escaped and when they were brought back, others rose up and tried to prevent the fugitives' execution. I've been forced to put down a considerable portion of my stock."

Annoyed, the Archon leaned back in his richly-decorated chair. None of the chairs in the room could be called simple and all looked almost like thrones, but the chair of the Archon was - naturally - the most beautiful. "How is this an issue for the magislation? It is not our problem if you cannot control your slaves."

Magister Claudius rose from his seat. "Apologies, Archon, but I'm afraid this does concern us all. The unrest among the slaves is not limited to the house of Philippa. Unfortunately I, too, have received reports of growing rebelliousness. As a precaution I have had twenty percent of my slaves executed and the rest of them flogged. Yet I suspected something is still brewing. I think most of my colleagues here can confirm this." Claudius looked around. His gaze was met with several nods from other magisters. Satisfied with the agreement, Claudius went on: "It is not difficult to pinpoint the source of this... inconvenience. There is talk about the limits of the magislation's power. Danarius' death, and the more recent demise of Gaius are used as examples. They idolize the fugitive, Fenris. To them, he is the living proof that slaves can defy their rightful masters."

The Archon leaned forward, his brow lowered threateningly. "In that case, it seems I should hold _you_ responsible for this growing unrest, Claudius. You guaranteed everyone here that you had the situation of the Fereldan and the wild slave under control. Instead, you gave them another victory to talk about, not only for the slaves, but for the commoners and the foreign mages as well."

Claudius paled a little around his moustache. "Gaius should have had no trouble with a Fereldan apostate," he argued. "He was a fool to lose control over his spell. I could not possibly have foreseen that. Nothing should have gone wrong."

"Perhaps I should kill you so you can tell Gaius that."

Claudius bowed as deep as he could. A slave could barely have gone any lower. Yet when he spoke, Claudius' voice did not match the humility of his posture. "There is no need for that. I have already sought him out and inflicted some punishment."

"Rather seems like a waste of time, punishment in death." The Archon leaned back in his chair and gave Claudius an irritated look before addressing the entire room. "Are there any suggestions how to proceed?"

Claudius cleared his throat, which led to the Archon's sharp gaze to return to him. With a quick gesture of his hand, the Archon allowed Claudius to speak. "Perhaps if we could get the barbarian on our side..."

He was interrupted by Macarius' giggling. "Shall we offer the wild apostate a seat among us? After all we now have a vacant spot again..."

Claudius shot his fellow magister an angry look. "Your ridicule is baseless. I would never suggest such a thing. I am merely bringing up the potential usefulness of the man. He is the one who now holds Fenris' leash. He should be able to call the wolf back."

Philippa shook her head. "The slave killed his previous master. He is unpredictable and unreliable. We cannot put our faith in a Fereldan apostate to control him."

Her words were met with a smooth smile. "I think you underestimate the influence the barbarian has on the slave."

"The slave once was Danarius' adoring puppy as well," Macarius cheerfully remarked.

"And how would you convince the Fereldan to cooperate then?" Philippa asked in return. "It's obvious he does not trust us."

"Trust is not required. I suspect informing him of the state of affairs will suffice."

The Archon sighed. "And I assume that we should continue to rely on you in this?"

Claudius made another bow. "I have already dealt with them before. I have become somewhat familiar with their ways. I think I know how to handle this."

Another stern look from the Archon made him lose most of his confidence. "If this escalates any further, we'll know who to blame," the Archon warned. He looked around. "What is the next topic on the agenda?"

Magister Tullius rose from his seat while Philippa and Claudius returned to their own. "The foreign mages who have escaped their Circles, Archon. Previous reports ensured us that the issue was resolved," a subtle glance in Claudius' direction followed, "but it appears they have increased their resolve. The name of their Fereldan Champion is whispered often, and I have received information that they are approaching Tevinter mages in attempts to get them to join their cause."

Macarius furrowed his deformed brow. "Has the Fereldan joined their ranks after all?"

"Nothing I have heard indicates this," Claudius replied. "He does not appear to leave the mansion much. For all I know he is indeed still busy searching for information on the ritual."

"Did one of the mages' leaders not visit him a few weeks ago, though?" Philippa countered.

"Only once and for a very short time," Tullius reminded her. "That would hardly be sufficient to explain the refugees' renewed vigor."

"Perhaps the slave is behind that as well then?" another magister asked.

"That's possible."

"I've heard of the arrival of another mage," Macarius said, immediately drawing everyone's attention.

"Every day new refugees arrive," Claudius replied dismissively. "How is the arrival of one more of concern to us?"

"Because his arrival appears to be connected to the... what did magister Tullius call it? Renewed _vigor_ of the mages. After you had assured us that the group would disband within days..."

"Care to explain that, Claudius?" the Archon inquired darkly. "I thought you and your apprentice had taken care of this."

"Last new moon everything seemed to indicate that... I... will investigate the issue immediately."

"Your failures are becoming a bit too common, Claudius."

"It will not happen again, Archon."

"One more thing about the new mage," Macarius began, "Although currently my informants lack solid proof for this, word is that the mage was present during the events in Kirkwall that led to the mages' revolt."

"Perhaps an associate of the Fereldan after all," the Archon mused. "We cannot afford to underestimate him again. That mistake has already cost us two colleagues. Claudius, you get one last chance to fix the situation, or you will be the next colleague we'll have to mourn."

The deepest bow from Claudius yet followed the Archon's words. Realizing that the situation was earnest, Claudius quickly went back to his seat, visibly hoping he would be safe for the rest of the meeting.

"Next topic," the Archon ordered.

Magister Varius was the one to answer. "With the current problems with the slaves, I thought it wise to have my stock put down and purchase new ones, but my trader's expected shipment never arrived. One of my other contacts had the same problem. Eventually I was forced to turn to the one man whose shipment did arrive and pay considerably more due to the outrageous price he was able to ask without competition around."

"The weather has been good lately," magister Philippa said. "So it is unlikely the ships were caught in a storm. Pirates then?"

"Or the Qunari," Tullius pointed out.

Claudius could not resist the urge to speak his mind. "Why would the oxmen take our slaves? They have never bothered with such a tactic before."

"That doesn't mean they cannot begin with such a tactic," Tullius argued.

Magister Varius cleared his throat. "If I may... I'm inclined to agree with Philippa. It seems most likely that pirates are at work here. We've had raids on our shipments before. I suggest the standard procedure to deal with them."

"Very well," the Archon decided, cutting Tullius off before he could let out a word of protest. The man saw the hand of the Qunari behind everything. Unfortunately, he was not so easily silenced.

"Archon, what will be our next move against the Qunari? We've been fighting them for years now, yet they still occupy Seheron."

"Forget the Qunari!" Claudius snapped unexpectedly, jumping up from his chair. "We should look to the rest of Thedas. The entire continent has fallen into chaos. This is our chance to strike and retake what is ours!"

Macarius giggled. "We cannot even reclaim one little island from creatures that are little more than beasts, yet you suggest we take on an entire continent? How optimistic."

Claudius ignored Macarius and addressed the Archon directly. "There hasn't been a chance like this in centuries. This is the time to make the Imperium great again! Do you want your rule to be remembered as the one that reinstated Tevinter's glory? Or as the one that had the perfect opportunity, but simply sat and watched as it slipped away?"

After that, the room erupted into chaos. Magisters jumped up from their seats and started yelling their opinion and the facts and opinions on which that opinion was based. Threats and insults were thrown across the room, while Macarius remained seated and laughed to himself. The Archon closed his eyes for a moment and massaged his temples, feeling the weariness seep into his bones. _I'm getting old_, he thought. Despite still appearing fit, he knew his time was running out, and the magisters knew it too. Three years ago Claudius would not have dared to speak to the Archon the way he had just done. Tullius would not have dared to open his mouth after the Archon had made it clear that the discussion was closed. Unrest was brewing. Among the magisters, among the slaves, among the lower mages - both Imperial and foreign -, and among the people in the rest of Thedas. Chaos was spreading, and it was spreading fast. It already held most of Thedas in its grip, and now it was coming for the Tevinter Imperium. But the Archon would not let chaos take his country without a fight. He would be damned if he let fools like Claudius risk everything. Maker take him if he did not try to protect what was left of their beautiful realm.

Slowly he rose from his seat, until he was standing straight and towering above most of the magisters. He sent out a warning pulse of magic to get everyone to shut up and look at him. When they were all doing just that, the Archon waited a little longer before he spoke. He took great care to put all the authority he had into every word. "It would be foolish," he began, "to attempt to expand our borders while so much unrest is currently brewing within. According to our reports a new slave rebellion is brewing. We have to deal with the refugee mages, pirates, and the Qunari. If we leave to march on the Free Marches, Orlais or Ferelden, we are likely to find the gates of our city closed for us upon return. We have to deal with our own affairs before we can risk an invasion. We cannot leave the Qunari at our backs, free to attack when they see fit." The Archon's eyes sought Claudius'. "I will rather be remembered as the Archon who prevented Tevinter from crumbling from within, than the fool who marched with his eyes on the horizon without realizing the gathering of stormy clouds behind him. I advise you - and that means everyone here - to not press this matter any further before having dealt with your own duties. You especially, magister Claudius. Deal with the Fereldan and the slave. The secret of the ritual is not worth a civil war, especially not one against mages and slaves combined."

All the magisters bowed their head to show they had understood.


End file.
